


Remain Nameless

by pizarra



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, M/M, Mob King Arthur, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pizarra/pseuds/pizarra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Pendragon is the king of organized crime, and thought himself content until he sees a common whore on his way home. Merlin is an orphan-turned-whore who’s seen and experienced too much to believe in dashing knights in shining armour. One night, Arthur makes Merlin an offer too good to be true: stay with Arthur and be his personal whore and Merlin will never worry about being cold or hungry again. But Arthur is too powerful, too scary, and Merlin is too world-weary to believe that Arthur’s offer is as black and white as he claims.</p><p>Tags are added as required. Please check them regularly. Thank you!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Under the Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin didn't know that when he woke up that morning, he'll be spending the night with Arthur Pendragon.

Merlin has just finished sucking off a john when _he_ enters the alleyway, with four men in dark clothes hovering behind him. Rising to his feet, Merlin sees the smirk the john gives the blond before saying, “Enjoy.”

Too experienced and too cold to feel humiliated, Merlin says, “Three hundred for a blowjob, five hundred for a fuck. No bareback.”

“I’m—“

“I know who you are.” Merlin’s interruption makes the other man raise an eyebrow. He rises up to the challenge. “You’re Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur Pendragon owns the mob. Or, one can also say that he owns Camelot. He gets what he wants and he takes care of people who gets in his way. Coppers look the other way when they see him, or else they get taken care of, too. All of Camelot knows who the young, handsome blond is. Yes, even Merlin.

Arthur is also known to bugger both men and women.

“Hmm. You know my name and yet I don’t know yours.”

Merlin shrugs. “You can call me anything you want.” Arthur laughs, as if Merlin has said something particularly funny. It irritates Merlin, because he’s cold, it’s raining, and Arthur Pendragon is wasting his time by standing here, talking. “So, what do you want?”

Arthur walks slowly towards him, and it takes everything for Merlin to stay where he is. He will not show weakness to this man. “How much for the entire night?”

Merlin shakes his head. “I don’t go home with customers.”

Arthur chuckles again. “Oh, but we won’t be…’going home.’ There’s a perfectly nice and comfortable hotel suite waiting for me. It’s certainly a better option that standing here in the rain. So, how much?”

He set rules since he started whoring himself to protect himself from being manipulated and abused. Always use your own condom, never accept drinks or food from customers. Stay clear of other hookers’ territories. And never, ever go anywhere with a trick. But this is Arthur Pendragon, and he suspects that even if he says no, he’ll just be forced to get inside the gleaming car behind him. He already knows where he walks, and looking for another street will make business hard for Merlin. But…he can always ask for an inappropriate amount, make Arthur Pendragon look for a fuck elsewhere.

“Two thousand quid. No knifeplay, scat, crossdressing, watersports, or whips. No barebacking, no rimming.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow again. “That’s quite expensive,” he remarks.

Merlin shrugs.

“And also, quite a long list. Although I noticed that you didn’t include bondage.”

“Leather and cloth are okay. Metal, no.”

“Spanking?”

“Yes. But just the hand.”

Arthur seems to think about it, and Merlin thinks that Arthur Pendragon will leave him alone, when, “Alright.”

Merlin’s heart drops. “Wait, what?”

Now, it’s Arthur’s turn to shrug. “I said, yes. Two thousand pounds for the whole night. So, let’s get out of this rain, shall we?”

Arthur holds out a hand to him in a gentlemanly fashion, but Merlin stays put. He’s scared. This is fucking Arthur Pendragon. A man criminals run away from. He doesn’t want to go with him.

“Wait,” Merlin says, thinking fast.

“Yes?”

“I, uh…money first,” he orders quite desperately.

Arthur smiles, and Merlin shouldn’t think that he’s handsome when he does that. “You don’t think I’m good for it?”

“I think I’d like to see the money first before I go anywhere with you.”

Merlin didn’t think he’d do it, but Arthur signals for one of the men behind him. One of the men goes inside the car for a while before coming back out. He walks to them and gives Arthur a thick envelope. “Thank you, Leon,” Arthur says before handing the envelope to Merlin.

Stunned, Merlin takes the envelope silently. He looks inside. A thick wad of notes stares back at him. Even without counting, he knows it’s what he asked for. Enough money for food to last for two weeks. He glances at Arthur again before nodding and pocketing the envelope.

“Very well. Shall we?” Arthur holds out a hand again, as Merlin steps forward, wishing with all his might that he doesn’t end up in a ditch somewhere.

 

\----------==========----------

 

Arthur didn’t blindfold him in the car or hold a gun to his head. He didn’t engage Merlin in small talk or make him suck him off during the car ride. He kept his hands to himself and sometimes typed something in his phone when it buzzes.

Still, Merlin refuses to let his guard down.

The four men don’t come up with them, leaving them to take the elevator ride alone. And when Arthur said that the hotel suite is comfortable, he meant it. It’s warm and everything in the room looks expensive. Really expensive.

He turns as he stares at the room. A red sofa and a couple of ottomans are arranged on a lowered space to the right, while a complete bar is set directly in front of him. There’s a room to the left that Merlin suspects is the bedroom and the room is surrounded by glass that gives him a spectacular view of the city.

Merlin finishes inspecting the room to see Arthur smiling at him. He can’t help but to blush; he must have looked like an idiot. He looks down at his shoes.

Then, he feels soft fingers on his cheeks, stroking. “It’s alright. This is for you to enjoy.”

He resists the urge to turn his head away from Arthur’s fingers. He’s being paid to be here whether he enjoys it or not, and Arthur is a right idiot for thinking otherwise. And Merlin must always keep that in mind, too, so he reaches for Arthur’s belt to start getting their clothes off.

“Stop,” Arthur commands, and Merlin stills his hand.

“I…did I do something wrong? You don’t want to—“

“You’re shivering,” Arthur observes. “Why don’t you take a shower first?”

Without waiting for Merlin’s reply, Arthur puts a hand on the small of his back and leads him to the bedroom and into the adjoining bath. The bathroom is as beautiful as the outside, and Merlin can’t help but get excited to use the spacious shower.

“Go on,” Arthur urges him. “Shower, and then meet me outside.”

Merlin nods, and waits for Arthur to go out to the main bedroom before locking the door.

 

\----------==========----------

 

When he steps outside of the bathroom, he’s wearing a towel around his waist. His clothes are too dirty and too wet for him to even consider putting them back on. He just hung them on the hooks and hope that by tomorrow morning they’ll be dry.

Arthur isn’t in the bedroom, but in the sitting room lounging on one of the red sofas and holding a drink. He’s taken off his jacket and tie, the top of his shirt unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up. He’s also barefoot. From where Merlin is standing, Arthur looks like a normal person posed like that. Just your average businessman.

“Glad to have you back. Did you enjoy your shower?”

Perhaps he’s just imagining it, but there’s a hint of teasing in Arthur’s voice that makes Merlin want to bristle. He shrugs in reply, feeling wrong-footed.

Arthur just smiles. “What’s your name?”

Now, this…this is something Merlin can do. He can play coy or aggressive, he can hard or soft. He can be whatever Arthur wants. He smiles and looks at Arthur from underneath his lashes as he replies, “You can call me whatever you want.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “You’re not going to give me your name?”

In truth, Merlin never gives anyone his name. Names have power, and in his line of work, the only power he has is sex. It’s better if the johns who pay him don’t call his name when they come or call him out when they see him on the street. His name is his, and no money in the world can make him give that to some trick, not even to Arthur Pendragon.

“Names aren’t important,” he says, because he feels like he should give something to Arthur before he presses the issue.

“So I’m not to know who my lovely guest tonight is?”

Merlin laughs. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I’m not a girl to be courted.” This time, he reaches for Arthur’s shirt and strokes the exposed skin with a finger. “So, what do you want me to do?” he asks, keeping his voice low. “I can suck your cock right here. Or do you prefer the bedroom?” He undoes a button before continuing. “Or would you like me to keep your cock warm? After all, we have all night.”

He dips his head to press his lips against Arthur’s collarbone as he unbuttons Arthur’s shirt and tugs it out. Arthur just stands there and lets Merlin push the shirt off and throw it on the floor. Merlin is wondering if all that talk about Arthur being a monster in bed is just talk. If so, then Merlin would really have to earn the two thousand pounds in his hoodie pocket. He reaches for Arthur’s belt when Arthur raises his hand and trails a finger on Merlin’s lower lip.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Arthur says, sounding breathless.

Merlin catches Arthur’s finger and sucks it in, keeping his eyes on Arthur. They are finally getting somewhere, and Merlin is glad for it.

Arthur’s eyes darken as he stares at Merlin hollowing his cheeks. Merlin can feel himself grow hard at the intensity in Arthur’s eyes, as if Arthur wants to eat him whole and can’t decide where to start. “Really beautiful,” he whispers, and with a gentle tug, frees his finger.

Merlin licks his lips at the sudden loss of contact. He breathes deeply to keep himself in check. Merlin can’t believe that he’s already half-hard just by putting Arthur’s finger in his mouth, so he needs to calm himself down. He normally doesn’t get aroused when he’s with customers, but he can’t deny that Arthur is one fine specimen. All toned muscles and golden skin just begging to be licked. Merlin looks down at Arthur’s crotch and is glad to see that he’s not the only one who’s excited.

He looks at Arthur again to see the man staring at him. Before he can react, Arthur reaches for the towel around his waist and pulls it, causing Arthur to smile at what he sees.

“You have a beautiful cock too,” Arthur says as he cups Merlin’s manhood. A groan forces itself from Merlin’s throat as Arthur rubs his cock slowly. “Very responsive.”

Arthur reaches a hand around him, and grabs a handful of his arse before pulling him close, his cock trapped between them, rubbing against wool now. He can feel Arthur’s erection through the fabric, but the blond seems unconcerned about getting naked. With his hand still clutching Merlin’s arse, Arthur grinds their hips together, making Merlin moan loudly.

The blond leans down to suck on the junction of Merlin’s neck and shoulder, as loud and as filthy as he can before pressing his lips to Merlin’s. “What’s your name?” he asks against Merlin’s mouth.

With the warm spreading up his chest, Merlin grabs Arthur’s waist with both hands and presses their hips harder. “Arthur…”

“That’s my name,” Arthur says, although he starts grinding against Merlin with more force. “What’s yours? Come now, tell me.”

Merlin shakes his head. “Naked. Please, I want you naked.”

Arthur takes a step back and starts pulling on his belt. Merlin just stands there naked, watching Arthur take the rest of his clothes off. Arthur is watching him back, smirking at Merlin, completely arrogant and self-assured. When finally, _finally_ , Arthur pushes his boxers off, Merlin’s mouth goes dry.

Arthur’s cock is quite easily one of the best Merlin’s ever seen. It’s thick and long, with thick veins running along it, and a smooth head. Merlin can no longer wait to wrap his lips around that cock, so he drops on his knees with a soft thud, raising his eyes to Arthur for permission.

“Go ahead,” Arthur says.

Merlin leans closer and presses the flat of his tongue against the slit of Arthur’s cock, forcing a sharp hiss from the man above him. Emboldened, he licks a stripe on the underside of Arthur’s cock, as slow as he could, before wrapping his lips around the head and giving a little suck.

“Fuck,” Arthur hisses, pushing his fingers into Merlin’s hair. “So good. So, so good. So hungry for my cock.”

Merlin can only moan in agreement.

He pulls away a little to lap at the beads of pre-come dripping out, little kitten licks that makes Arthur clutch at his hair. He groans, loving the sharp tug on his scalp, and wanting more.

“Fuck, your mouth, so beautiful, I want to…” Arthur trails off, not finishing what he’s saying, but Merlin doesn’t care. Blood is roaring in his ears as he continues to lave attention to Arthur’s cock.

He moves down to mouth on Arthur’s balls, while keeping a hand around Arthur’s length. Merlin inhales deeply as he feels the balls tighten with his every lick. He returns to the dripping cock before him, and, opening his mouth wide, sinks down slowly, inch by wonderful inch.

He moans and rolls his eyes at the heady taste of _Arthur_ , making the other man choke. Arthur puts a hand on his nape, while the other still clutches his hair, and guides him down his cock, Merlin focusing on breathing through his nose. Arthur’s cock is a delicious weight in his mouth, and as it hits the back of his throat, Merlin’s eyes begin to water and his spit dribbles down his chin.

Merlin grips Arthur’s thighs, fingernails digging into the flesh, as a silent plea for more.

“Fuck,” Arthur growls out as he pulls Merlin off his cock, then uses a hand to smear pre-come on Merlin’s lips. Merlin’s mouth feels empty, and he groans at the feel of Arthur’s seed on his lips. He sticks out a tongue and whirls it around the head, chasing the beautiful taste of musk and salt and _Arthur_.

“Condom,” Arthur barks, “grab a fucking condom.”

Merlin looks around and sees a small bowl on the coffee table filled with packets of condoms. He takes one, rips it up, and slowly puts it on Arthur’s beautiful member. He licks his lips again in anticipation of what’s to come.

“Shit, your fucking mouth,” Arthur growls, which makes Merlin lick his lips again. “Fuck! Stop that or I won’t last.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow at that. He smirks, and slowly, deliberately, swipes his tongue on his lips.

“You little minx,” Arthur breathes out, but he’s grinning. “Open your mouth, and you better not have a damned gag reflex.”

Merlin does as he’s told and opens his mouth. Arthur grabs his head with two hands, and Merlin readies himself to be face-fucked.

But Arthur only slides Merlin down on his cock gently until he reaches the back of his throat. And no, that won’t do at all. Merlin wants to feel the pressure of Arthur’s cock fucking down his throat. He wants to feel the weight on his tongue.

_He wants to choke on it._

Merlin groans and thumps his fist on Arthur’s thick thigh. Arthur chuckles. “Shh, little minx, I’ll give it to you. Be patient.”

Arthur slowly pulls him off again, before repeating the process. Merlin moans around the weight in his mouth, making Arthur’s eyes roll. Then Arthur feeds more of his cock into Merlin, pressing until his length is halfway down Merlin’s throat and Merlin’s lips flush against his belly, keeping him there with one hand.

Merlin groans, and Arthur immediately knows what he wants. Merlin tries to open his mouth wider as Arthur starts fucking his face hard, just like he wants him to. His desperate groans fill the air as Arthur pulls and pushes in and out of his mouth, getting spit everywhere. Merlin keeps his throat open, greedy for everything Arthur can give, as Arthur continues thrusting into his mouth. Merlin’s near, he knows, so he grabs his own erection and pumps it. Arthur’s movements become faster, his hips stutter, and then he stills, exploding in Merlin’s mouth.

Merlin dry sucks him through his orgasm, not minding the taste of latex and his own saliva, until he spills into his hand. After a while, Arthur pulls out and throws away the condom, leaving Merlin kneeling on the floor with a messy hand, breathing as if he’d run a marathon.

“Look at you,” Arthur says as Merlin is wiping his mouth with the back of his clean hand. Merlin looks up and sees Arthur staring at him, eyes still hungry and wanting. Before Merlin can react, Arthur picks him up and carries him to the bathroom to clean up again.


	2. The Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur makes Merlin an offer too good to be true. Will his fear of Arthur overcome his decisions?

Arthur turns his head to look at the person sleeping beside him. The whore looks younger when he sleeps, and he wonders just _exactly_ how old this person is.

He’s been watching him for a long time. The first time Arthur saw him, the boy was pressed against a wall in an alleyway on Fifth Street, a bear of a man humping him from behind. The boy’s mouth was open at that time, cheekbones pink even from a distance, hair all over the place, getting lost in the pleasure of sex, and Arthur thought he was the most magnificent boy he’s ever seen.

Arthur has seen his fair share of whores, and even employs a handful of them, but there’s something about this boy that he can’t put a finger on.

Since then, he’d had Leon drive by that street under one pretense or another, until his second-in-command just drove to that direction every night without being asked.

Two months. Two months of watching and observing and _waiting_ , before he finally made a move. Arthur only wanted a taste, just once, to get the boy out of his system, but now…he wants more. More of this boy writhing underneath him, moaning his name. His little minx.

After having an orgasm from the most amazing blowjob to end all blowjobs, Arthur took the boy to bed and ravished him twice. His hole is just as good as his mouth, but somehow better. Tighter, hotter, and utterly delicious.

And the sounds he made. Arthur has never had a more passionate lover. Every squirm, every gasp, every moan coming from this boy is sex itself, making him want to do things that he hasn’t been allowed. Like putting his tongue on the boy’s hole. He wants to prepare the boy using only his tongue, and hear the filthy things that will come out of his mouth. Perhaps next time.

And there will be a next time.

His phone buzzes on the bedside table. He taps it and sees Leon’s name. He frowns. “Leon, this better be good.”

“Sorry to interrupt, sir, but there’s been an incident…”

 

\----------==========----------

 

Merlin wakes to the sunlight on his face. He turns away, and squirms a bit to find a more comfortable position in his wonderful bed…

He sits upright. His bed is not comfortable. He looks around, and remembers. The hotel, the shower, Arthur Pendragon.

The door opens, and in comes the man himself. He’s wearing another pair of trousers now, and a blue button-down that matches his eyes. It’s morning. Their night together is done.

“Good, you’re awake,” Arthur says, placing clothes Merlin didn’t realize he is holding against the back of a nearby chair. “These are for you. I’m afraid you can’t use your old clothes on your way out. The hotel might mistake you for a thief or a vagrant of some kind.”

He bristles at that. “Or maybe you just don’t want to be seen with a whore like me. No thanks,” he snaps.

Arthur chuckles. “No. I mean, you really can’t use your old clothes. They’re caked in mud and still dripping wet. You won’t even be able to put them on.” Merlin glares at him. “Honestly. Go ahead and see.”

Merlin does go inside the bathroom to see for himself to find that Arthur is not lying. The leg of his trousers are wet to the knees, and the frayed cuffs are thick with mud. His shirt and hoodie are no better.

“Well?” Arthur asks from behind him. Without waiting for an answer, he says, “Get dressed. Or, you can take a bath first if you want. There’s breakfast outside once you’re done, little minx.”

Merlin glares at Arthur for the nickname, but he lets it go since he didn’t give the man a name to call him by. He forgoes the bath for another shower, before pulling on the clothes.

The clothes are simple, and are something he would actually wear, only…more expensive. The jeans are designer labeled, and the shirt is so soft against his skin. Instead of a hoodie, he has a jacket, as red as the couch outside.

And they all fit him perfectly.

After securing the money in the envelope and putting it inside his new jacket, Merlin goes outside to find Arthur on the veranda, sitting on one of those wooden chairs that rich people use on the telly, with heaps of food set in front of him. He’s reading the newspaper, and again, it strikes Merlin that he looks like an ordinary businessman when he’s like that.

“Hello again, little minx. You certainly took your time.”

Except for when he talks, that is.

“Where’d you get these clothes?” he asks, not moving from the French doors.

Arthur lowers the newspaper, and raises an eyebrow at him. “From the store. Where’d you think I got it from?”

Merlin snorts. “Right. And the stores are open at,” Merlin looks at the nearby wall clock, “eight in the morning?”

And then Arthur smiles, but it’s not the smile from last night. This one has a malicious twist that makes Merlin a bit nervous. “Stores are always open for me. Come, eat. I bet you’re hungry. Once you’re finished, Leon will take you home.”

He doesn’t know what made him do it, but he joins Arthur at the table and eats. He is indeed hungry, and the food smells heavenly. He watches Arthur as he eats. The blond is ignoring him, only reading, turning the page, and then reading again. Once in a while, though, he’ll put something on Merlin’s plate and says, “try this, it’s perfect with the bread,” or “you should eat more; you look like a wind will blow you away.” It’s unsettling.

Merlin is finishing his tea when he says, “There’s no need for…Leon…to take me home. I can go home from here.”

Arthur folds the paper, sets it aside, and looks at him. Like, really looks at him. In the early morning light, with the sun making his hair look an even brighter gold, Merlin can see what makes people so afraid of this man. There’s power behind those eyes, and he seems to be able to read your soul. Merlin looks away, the undivided attention making him feel like a blushing virgin

“Nonsense,” Arthur says, “Leon will take you home. I insist.”

It would be futile to refuse Arthur’s offer. With all his power, Merlin is sure Arthur will have his way even if he has to shove Merlin into the vehicle himself. Merlin suppresses the shudder that threatens to come out. For Arthur is indeed powerful; he opened up a store at eight in the fucking morning.

“Right,” he says once he’s gulped down the last of his tea, “I’ll be going now.” He doesn’t know the protocol for leaving your customers the morning after, as he has never gone home with one before, but he’s pretty sure that you need to say _something_. How do the other hookers do it? Do they just sneak out? Hug? Give the john a kiss?

Arthur stands up as well and leads him to the door. Outside is Leon, apparently waiting for Merlin to make an appearance. He nods at Leon, and he’s about to walk out, when Arthur pulls him closer and kisses him on the lips. “I hope to see you again, little minx.”

\----------==========----------

 

"Where to, sir?" Leon asks.

They've just got to the main road, leaving the hotel, and Arthur, behind. To make Leon drive him home is akin to inviting Arthur to his flat, and he doesn't want to do that. No customer will ever set foot on Merlin's flat.

"Fifth Street will be fine, thanks," he says.

"Sir, I've been instructed to drive you straight to your flat."

"Um, I...I need the money. I can, you know, sometimes, men want to let loose before going to work." He looks down, hoping that the explanation will be enough for Leon.

The driver nods and says, "Certainly, sir."

Of course, he stands on the street for two hours and getting no customers before he deems it safe to walk home.

 

\----------==========-----------

 

"Let me go!" Merlin yells at the john, who is twisting his arm behind his back. "Let me go, you bastard!"

"Oh, come on, darling. Just one more," the drunk, overweight arse croons against his ear.

Merlin struggles against the man's hold, unwilling to become the victim. "I said no, you arse!"

Without warning, the man pulls then slams Merlin against the wall again, the impact causing Merlin's ribs to scream in protest. He gasps, wishing that a copper would just show up _this one time_ to save him from this drunkard.

Just as he was about to scream for help, the weight on his back is gone. Then he hears a smack and something thumping on the ground.

He turns quickly (too quickly, if the pain on his chest is any indication) to see Arthur pulling his suit jacket down. The drunk is on the ground, holding his bleeding face.

"Well, you really should listen when somebody says no," he says to the drunkard conversationally, as if he didn't just punch the man. "Leon, please assist our friend."

Leon nodded, and pulled the man up before slamming him against the wall.

"Thank you, Leon." Arthur nods, then switches places with Leon, putting a hand on the drunkard's chest to keep him in place. "Now, is that how you treat a working man?" Arthur asks.

"Who the fuck are you?" The drunkard wheezes.

Arthur laughs. "Who am I?" Another laugh. "That's funny. Really, hilarious." Arthur slaps the man hard across his face. "My name is Arthur Pendragon, mate."

The horror is evident on the drunkard's face. "Look, Mr. Pendragon, sir, I didn't know he was one of yours."

One of what?

Before Merlin can open his mouth, Arthur says, "He's not. I just don't like it when idiots," Arthur punches the man in the stomach, "rough up working people. Is that understood?"

The man nods vigorously. "Yes, sir, Mr. Pendragon, sir."

"Hey, hey, shhh," Arthur says, trying to calm the man's wheezing. "Breathe. Now, you know what would make me happy?" The man shakes his head. "I would really love it if you apologize. You just wasted his time, after all, when he could've been servicing other people by now."

The man looks at Merlin so quick, he suspects whiplash. "Sorry. So sorry. Not gonna happen again."

"It most certainly will not," Arthur interrupts. "Because you won't see him again, will you?" The man shakes his head. "Will you ask for his services again?" Another shake of the head. "Will he even _see_ you on this street again?" The man's head shakes again.

"Good," Arthur smiles, and Merlin thinks that he'll let the man go now, but then Arthur pulls out a gun from somewhere behind him and places it against the man's groin, making the man shout and almost giving Merlin a coronary. Arthur presses the gun in, making an indent on the man’s trousers, with the man practically crying his eyes out. "Because if you don't, I'll find you and I'll blow them away. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir! Yes, sir!"

"Great. Off you go now." Arthur stows away his gun.

Merlin, Leon, and Arthur watch the man run away. As soon as the man is out of sight, Arthur turns to him and says, "We see each other again, little minx."

Merlin doesn't like this. He's asked the other people, asked them if Arthur Pendragon ever gets a streetwalker to service him, but they all say the same: Arthur has his own whores whom he can use if he wants to, not that he does. A man like Arthur Pendragon does not need to pay for sex. Men and women, however, probably pay him for a chance to share his bed. For weeks, he's convinced himself that Arthur has forgotten about him, that their night is really just one night only, but the man is here, in the flesh, in front of him.

He decides to go on the offensive. "If you're looking for a thank you, you can look elsewhere." He glares.

Arthur laughs again, but it's warmer, not laced with hostility. "Oh, believe me, little minx, I know."

"What are you doing here?"

Arthur shrugs. "You know, this and that."

"Okay, great. Bye, mate. I have to work."

Merlin is walking down Fifth, working very hard to ignore the fact that Arthur is following him, until he reaches the end of the block. He faces Arthur and finds him about three feet away. He crosses his arms in irritation. "What do you want?"

"There's an amazing Italian restaurant a couple of blocks from here. Would you like to have dinner with me?" Arthur grins, the charming kind, the kind that indicates he's sure that Merlin _will_ say yes.

"Not hungry." He turns around again and walks.

"Come on," the man purrs, and his traitorous mind brings him back to that night, with Arthur pressed against him, whispering those exact words in his ear.

"No."

"It will be fun."

"No. Do you mind?"

"Oh, no, please, I can do this all night." The man grins again playfully.

Shit. That's exactly what he's afraid of. This man just doesn't take the word no for an answer.

"Just one dinner. Everybody needs to eat!"

Merlin faces him again. "Look, I appreciate the offer, but I really need to work. Not everyone has plenty of money lying around somewhere."

Arthur steps closer until they're a few inches apart. Merlin can smell the faint smell of apple that he recognizes as the shower soap in the hotel they stayed at. "Very well. How much for an hour of your time?"

Merlin sucks in a breath. He knows he's a whore, and he probably shouldn't be insulted, but he is. "Fuck off!" He bits out and pushes Arthur away.

Arthur has the gall to even look confused. "What?"

"You heard me, Pendragon. Fuck off. I know I'm a whore, but you have no right to insult me like that. And I am not a bloody girl for you to take to dinner. So fuck off, asshole." He starts walking again, and he hears Arthur groaning behind him.

"I didn't mean it like _that_!"

Merlin walks faster.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" He hears Arthur jogging behind him and knows the man is close. "Let me apologize by taking you to dinner."

He keeps on walking.

Arthur catches up and jumps in front of him, effectively blocking his path. "Look, I really just want some dinner and perhaps to talk to you for a bit. Okay? Just to talk. And I know that if you go with me, you won't earn any money, so I offered. Really, that's all there is. I didn't mean to insult you."

Merlin glowers at the man. "Fine. You want to talk, so talk."

"Here?"

Merlin shrugs.

And because he really is an asshole, Arthur laughs at Merlin. He grinds his teeth and starts walking again, but Arthur grabs his arm, pulls him close, and whispers, "What I have to say is not for public consumption, believe me. What do you say, little minx?"

 

\----------===========----------

 

The restaurant is open but empty when they arrive. A waiter directs them to a table in the middle of the restaurant.

"I thought you said this place was great?" Merlin asks once the waiter is out of hearing range. "Why isn't there anybody else in here?"

Arthur looks up from his menu and says, quite simply, "I like my privacy."

Oh, god. He had an entire restaurant to himself because he likes his privacy? How much influence does this man have?

The waiter comes back, and Arthur asks, "So what would you like to eat?"

In all honesty, Merlin looked at the menu but couldn't even begin to pronounce the words written in there. He blushes as he stammers, "Why don't you order for me?"

Arthur watches him for a few seconds before nodding, and orders a seafood risotto for himself and a 'Bolognese' for Merlin.

He feels entirely out of his element. He's never been to a restaurant as nice as this before, and he's glad that they're the only ones here. Even if he makes a fool of himself, there's only Arthur to witness it. Of course, the arse would probably be insufferable, but he wouldn't be rude about Merlin's ignorance.

They stay like that until the food comes—with Merlin looking at anywhere and everywhere except at Arthur, and Arthur watching him the whole time. He can feel the blond's eyes on him the whole time, and only looks away as his plate is set before him.

Bolognese, it turns out, is noodles, and Merlin enjoys it immensely. They don't talk throughout the meal, much like the breakfast they had, and Merlin is strangely okay with that.

Arthur orders coffee, and Merlin can't wait anymore. They've had dinner, so Arthur must be content now, right?

"What...what did you want to talk about?" He asks, suddenly shy. Merlin wouldn't even try to gauge what's going on in this man's brain. He’s playful with Merlin most of the time, but in control. When he talks to his men, he’s serious—always serious. When he fucks, he’s passionate, domineering, and dedicated. He’s an enigma.

"I would like to propose something," Arthur replies, leaning on his elbows.

Merlin knows what that means. He's been approached by pimps before, so he replies, "No."

Arthur raises an eyebrow at him. "No? You haven't even heard what I'm about to say."

"Oh, I know what you're going to offer me. A place in one of your brothels, is that it? Well, no. I won't become one of your whores."

Arthur laughs that laugh again, as if Merlin has said something utterly funny. It's irritating.

"Oh, god. You see, that's why I like you, you always surprise me." Arthur shakes his head. "No. I'm offering something different. I want you to stay with me."

Merlin had to raise his eyebrow at that. "What?"

"I said, I want you to stay with me. In my house. As my own personal...bedmate."

Did he hear that right? "When you say personal bedmate, you mean...?"

This time, Arthur leans close enough for his lips to touch Merlin's ear. "It means, my little minx, that I, and only I, will share your bed. I will be the only one who will see you naked. I will be the only one who will enter you or use your mouth."

The words are making Merlin’s blood all rush down to his crotch, so he leans away, and stands up, putting some distance between his ear and Arthur’s filthy mouth. "What?"

Arthur stands up as well. "It's quite simple, really. I will pay you plenty of money to stay with me and service only me. In exchange, you get off the streets and you no longer see other customers. You will no longer have to deal with drunks and drug addicts and alleys. You won't have to drop to your knees in the middle of the rain."

Merlin paces the floor, because that sounds like Arthur is asking him to be his..."Like a live-in whore?" He croaks out.

Arthur shrugs. "If you want to put it that way, sure."

Merlin stares at the man before him. It sounds like a wonderful offer. He no longer have to worry about coppers and dangerous men with guns who stiff him out of his money. No more worrying about when's the next time he'll eat.

"All the rules you set when we first met will stay in place, of course. Only spanking and bondage allowed, no rimming. You would have to undergo a blood test, though, because I don't want to use condoms. I will provide your food, of course. And you will share my bed. Although, if you want to have your own room, I'm sure we can arrange it."

Merlin swallows. Arthur is the most dangerous man in all of Camelot, and he wants him? That's insane. "Why me? There are better whores out there. Why me?"

"You intrigue me."

“And why can’t we just—“ Merlin gestures vaguely, “you know, go on like this? I can make time for you if you want me for the whole night.”

Arthur chuckles, but not the good kind. “Because, sweetheart, I don’t share.”

And if that doesn’t send off warning bells in Merlin’s head, then he doesn’t know what will. Arthur is a possessive bastard who makes hardened criminals weep. This doesn’t bode well for Merlin. Not at all.

"And what happens when you get sick of me?"

"Then, you're free to go. You won't be my prisoner."

"And...and if I...if I say no?"

Arthur shrugs. "Then you say no. I won't force you."

"And you won't bother me again?"

The blond smiles, and Merlin waits with bated breath. He's terrified of this man and what he's capable of, but he won't just agree to everything he says. "And I won't bother you again."

Early in life, he'd learned never to take a trick's word as the complete truth. They all are just after their own hides. But...Arthur has been honest with him since the beginning. He didn't force Merlin, he didn't hurt him more than Merlin wanted. And he never tried to gloss over the way he got the clothes, or this restaurant. He gave him the exact money he asked for.

But still...perhaps that's all just a front, a way to make Merlin let down his guard. Act nice now, play dirty later.

He shakes his head. "I...I'm saying no." He takes a deep breath and repeats it. "I'm saying no."

After a while, Arthur nods. "Alright then. I completely understand."

Merlin looks at the door. Nervously.

"Would you stop that? I'm not going to do anything nefarious to you! You may go, if you want. But, if you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Yes. The Pendragon Mansion really isn't that hard to find. It's big, it's intimidating, and it's more secure than a Swiss bank. "Right," he says. "Um, thanks for the food."

Arthur smiles. "You're welcome."

He leaves.

 

\-----------===========----------

 

It’s a week after Arthur talked to Merlin, he is in his office, watching the live feed. The man has his instructions, and Arthur will ensure that he gets results today.

He sees the boy on the video feed, smiling coyly at the camera. "What can I do for you?"

Arthur watches as the object of his obsession is suddenly slammed against the wall. "You'll open your mouth for me, whore, or I'll blow your head off."

Squirming, the boy yells, "Let go of me!"

"On your knees, whore!" The man insists before slapping the boy hard.

On cue, Arthur hears another man shout. "Hey, let go of him!"

There's some shuffling and some scrambling, but Arthur doesn't care about that. The video feed is shaky because of the scuffling, but he can see the boy clearly. He's transfixed at the tears streaming down the boy's eyes and the bleeding cut on his cheekbone before he runs away from the scene.

He cuts the feed, then sends a text to the men to clear away. Their job is done. Now, all Arthur has to do is wait.

He doesn't have to wait long. After about two hours, George knocks on his office door to announce a visitor.

A few moments more, and the boy enters his office, saying, "So this is what it looks like inside."

The bruise on his cheek is an angry red now, on the way to becoming purple. He stands up abruptly and says, adding a bit of anger in his voice "What the hell happened to you?"

The boy—the lovely, lovely boy—turns away from his touch. "Nothin'," he answers. "Just some asshole."

"Fuck," he exclaims, "we have to clean that." After sending George off for the medicine kit, he leads the boy to the sofa. "What happened?"

"It doesn't matter," the boy answers, looking angry himself. "Is the...is the offer still available?" He asks in a small voice, and Arthur wants to jump up for joy.

Instead, he nods.

The boy nods too. "Okay...Okay, I'll do it."

 

\----------==========-----------

 

Merlin looks around the room he's been given. It's spacious, with a sitting room and its own bathroom. There's a writing desk with enough paper to last him a lifetime (he checked), and a flatscreen. There's also a balcony that overlooks the garden.

This must be what it's like to be a kept man, Merlin thinks as he lets himself sink down on the plush bed, if a kept man is being paid a ridiculous amount of money to be fucked.

George, Arthur's butler of some sort, enters the room again to set tea in the sitting area. "Your clothes will be delivered tomorrow morning, as well as your shoes. Mr. Pendragon requests that you rest for today."

"Wait, my clothes? I haven't told Arthur where I live," Merlin cuts in.

George's nose wrinkles as Merlin says 'Arthur' casually, but replies. "No, sir, your new clothes. Good day." And with that, George leaves.

Shit. Speaking of his flat...Merlin didn't waste time in going here after being assaulted in that alley. He didn't think through what would happen to his flat and his stuff. He needs to talk to Arthur.

Finding the way back to Arthur's office is easy once he reaches the huge staircase. Without knocking, he opens the door to Arthur's office.

What he sees inside is the stuff of movies. Arthur is behind his huge desk with a bloodied man in front of him, kneeling, and the room is full of men in dark suits. And they all turn to Merlin once he opens the door.

Except for the kneeling man, who didn't even look up. He's so surprised and terrified by all the blood that he doesn't move for a minute.

"Yes?" Arthur prompts.

That jolts him out of his trance. He looks at Arthur, expecting anger, but finding only impatience.

"Right, sorry. I, uh, wanted to talk to you about something. But I, uh...It can wait."

"Come on in," Arthur says with a wave of his hand. "It's best if we talk about it now." He then turns to one of the men in suits, a man with longish hair and roguish looks, and says, "Gwaine, take him away. He's getting blood all over my rug."

Merlin stays in one place as they carry/drag the man out of the office.

"Come, my little minx, what did you want to talk about?"

He walks closer to Arthur's desk, but Arthur swivels his chair to the side and opens his legs, a clear indication for Merlin to come even closer. So he does, slowly, not knowing the mood Arthur's in. He must have gone insane, Merlin thinks, to even agree to this. Arthur beats people up. He owns brothels and whores. Some say he runs the drug cartel in Camelot, and that he has the chief of the police in his payroll. Dangerous is an understatement when it comes to Arthur, and Merlin willingly walked into the man's home.

Not satisfied to have him between his legs, Arthur pulls him down onto his lap and arranges him: with Merlin's legs straddling his thighs and Merlins arms around his neck.

"So, my little minx, what did you want to talk about?"

Merlin swallows. Arthur said that he can rest for his first day here, but it's hard to remember that when the man's erection is under Merlin's arse and that magnificent chest is in front of him. "I, uh...my flat. I have to go get some stuff from my flat."

Arthur frowns. "Didn't George tell you? Your clothes will be here tomorrow."

"Yes, but..." Merlin squirms under the scrutiny, and unintentionally grinds against Arthur's lap.

The other man grips his waist. "I'll stop doing that, if I were you."

Merlin can feel his face go red. Arthur is looking at him as if he wants to devour him. "Right. Sorry. Um, just...I have some stuff there. And I need to return my keys to my landlord..."

Arthur pulls him closer to nuzzle the side of his neck. He breathes deep and stays there for a few minutes before talking again. "Alright. But Leon will drive you. And when I say drive, I meant to your flat and back."

He stiffens. "Oh, so I won't be your prisoner, but I'll have a warden nonetheless?"

Merlin starts the get up from Arthur's lap, but the man tightens his grip. "Don't be an idiot. You're free to come and go as you please. I only meant no more giving Leon the slip. Last time, you had him drop you off on Fifth!"

"I needed to work, okay? You hogged my whole night."

"Fine. Just don't do it again."

"I won't. Happy?"

Arthur ignores the glare Merlin sends his way to press a button on the phone on his desk. "George? Send Leon in please."

 

\----------==========----------

 

His flat looks the same. Merlin was expecting it to be different, to somehow mirror the turmoil of his life, but he finds the place just as he left it. Clean, but a bit messy.

Leon tells him to leave anything that isn't important, like his clothes. He's left Leon downstairs, unwilling to let the man see the inside of Merlin's dingy flat, knowing that he'll report back to Arthur.

He goes straight to his bed and gropes around for the box he keeps underneath it. Inside are the few possessions he really values: a few photos, a little notebook, some important papers, his birth certificate, and a wooden dragon that the nuns say came with him. What little money he's managed to save is also inside, secured with a rubber band.

He checks his pockets in case he missed anything, puts the things he needs inside the box, grabs his phone, then leaves the room. He goes downstairs to find the landlord. Mr. Cole looks at him strangely as if he didn’t even know Merlin was his tenant.

Leon is leaning against the car when he walks out. Merlin nods at the unasked question. Yes, they can head back to the Pendragon Mansion now.


	3. Working for Pendragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin learns what it's like to be Arthur Pendragon's personal whore.

The clothes, it turns out, are basically the same style that Arthur gave him on their first morning after, except there’s far more of them this time. Arthur also gives him different pairs of shoes, as if Merlin would be able to use them all. He doesn’t send for a barber, though, claiming that he likes Merlin’s hair as it is. He reads the contract—twice—before signing the paper with his fingerprint. The underline for his name remains blank and Arthur doesn’t inquire.

Merlin’s blood work also comes out clean, which Arthur celebrated by fucking him into the mattress several times.

“What did he do?” Merlin asks Arthur as they lay in Arthur’s bed after another round of shagging. He stretches his legs, his muscles feeling like jelly, and his voice is hoarse from all the begging that he did. Merlin is half laying on Arthur, with his head on the crook of Arthur’s neck and the other man’s arms wrapped around him.

Arthur is amazingly tactile, touching him whenever they see each other during the day, pressing kisses on his neck before he leaves to scare people or whatever it is he does. At first, Merlin tries to squirm away, especially if Arthur’s men are near. But they all just smile and pretend that it’s not weird for their boss to be so free with his touches to a whore.

“Who?” Arthur asks, confused.

“That man…On my first day here? He was bleeding, and…” Merlin trails off.

Arthur said that he’s free to go anywhere in the house. At first, Merlin stuck to his room and Arthur’s room, but ventured on to the library and the pool once he became bored enough and brave enough. Merlin thought that it was nice of Arthur to give him so much freedom, until he reaches his first locked door. It has a dial pad beside the door frame that Merlin assumes requires the password. And then he understands: Arthur’s not worried about Merlin seeing things he doesn’t want to be seen because the important rooms are locked.

After that, Merlin can’t help but be intrigued. He knows that most of what Arthur does are illegal, but hasn’t seen much of what Arthur does except for that first day with that bleeding man. And he wants to know what that man did.

“Hmm…don’t worry about him, little minx,” Arthur replies rather dismissively.

Merlin doesn’t know why, but he can’t let it go. The man looked so pitiful, and he was old. Nobody should treat old people that way. “But…was he a bad man?” Merlin persists.

“Why the sudden interest?”

Arthur uses a hand to lift Merlin’s face up. The blond doesn’t look angry, only curious.

Instead of answering, Merlin throws back a question. “Why did you hurt him?”

“Well, it wasn’t I who hurt him.” The answer is so nonchalant that Merlin’s heart speeds up in trepidation. “Why the sudden interest?” Arthur asks, more forceful this time.

“It’s just that…” Merlin licks his lips, unsure of how to explain. Arthur’s eyes gets drawn to his mouth, and he resists the nervous habit of licking his lips again. “You shouldn’t hurt people. It’s…bad.”

Arthur chuckles, pulling Merlin up against his body, leaving Merlin no choice but to straddle him, putting their cocks against each other. Instantly, Merlin’s length hardens, as if he’s a teenager.

There’s something about this man that keeps him perpetually horny.

“How old are you?” Arthur asks him.

“Why do you wanna know?” he asks.

“You look young,” Arthur shrugs.

“Twenty-one,” he says.

A frown mars the beautiful face. “Is that the truth?”

Merlin chuckles, unsure as to what Arthur’s getting at. “Of course.”

After a while, Arthur asks, “You said you know who I am. So you know what I do, right?”

Merlin nods. “A little.”

Arthur pulls him down to kiss his lips. “Let’s keep it that way.”

 

\------------==========----------

 

Arthur finds him in the kitchen making tea. Arthur employs a dozen staff to keep the house in perfect working condition; George is always at the boy’s beck and call, and Anna, the cook, has taken to giving him an extra cupcake or two to fatten him up. Despite all that, the boy still insists on doing things for himself.

The boy has his earphones on and is dancing to the music in his ears. He looks surprisingly at ease, which is completely different from how he was this morning while Arthur was getting dressed for the day and he took out his gun. The boy was in bed, sitting still, and watching the gun like a hawk. The boy dislikes guns, he can tell, even though he tries to hide it, and his spunk impresses Arthur. Most people would have run in the other direction by now.

“Stop looking like that; I’m not going to do anything bad,” he’d said.

“People don’t exactly point a gun at someone to show affection,” came the quick retort.

That’s another thing that draws him to the boy—his sass. It’s not everyday someone can get cheeky with him.

And now the boy has his back to Arthur, dancing in his kitchen, looking for all the world as if he belonged there.

Perhaps he does.

His men haven’t said anything, although they give him that look that says he’s getting too close to the boy for their peace of mind. That the boy is becoming too important, a leverage waiting to be used against him, and soon it’s going to cost Arthur something more than money. But Arthur can’t stay away, no matter how hard he tries. The boy is an enigma, an addiction, an itch he can’t scratch, and he doesn’t even know his name.

Arthur’s eyes follow the movement of the boy’s hips, every sway and dip. He’s entranced, and he walks closer to succumb to the temptation of the luscious body before him. Arthur puts his hands on the boy, earning a yelp and an “Arthur!”

The boy turns in his arms, putting them face to face. Arthur leans in for a kiss, opening the boy’s mouth with his tongue. The boy complies, meeting every flick with one of his own. Emboldened, Arthur deepens the kiss, making the boy groan and grind against him.

He leans away and stares. The boy’s beautiful blue eyes are completely dark, arousal making him look like a magical being who came to take Arthur away. He wonders what it’s like to have those eyes look at him with something other than lust.

“Arthur?”

The boy’s voice takes him back to the here and now. He doesn’t answer, just lifts the boy onto the counter before settling in between his legs. Arthur kisses him again, running his hands all over the boy’s body, making him arch his back. His body sensitized by Arthur’s ministrations, the boy grips Arthur’s shoulder hard.

When he can’t take it anymore, he grips the boy’s neck and orders, “Take off your clothes.”

The boy licks his lips, making Arthur’s prick throb. It’s one of Arthur’s weaknesses, and yet the boy doesn’t even realize the power that his lips have. “What, now?”

“Yes, now, my little minx,” he teases, because he knows the boy will scowl at him at the nickname.

“But Arthur—“

Tired of waiting, Arthur pulls the boy’s jumper up, exposing beautiful pale skin. His marks are still there, dark and inviting, and a reminder of how obsessed he is with this boy.

“Arthur!”

He unbuttons the boy’s trousers.

“Arthur, wait!” The boy grabs his hands. “Wait. Not here! What if someone comes in?”

He descends onto the boy’s chest and puts a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it, nibbling. The boy gives a low moan and a tug on his hair in retaliation. “Arthur, no! We’re in the kitchen, for fuck’s sake! People will see!”

Arthur ignores him, opting instead to slide his lips down the boy’s stomach to suck on the flesh above the waistband of his trousers. He pulls the zipper down, then peevishly pulls on the trousers.

“Wait—! Arthur, stop—Ow—Anna might come in any minute now!” The boy squirms and Arthur slaps his backside as a warning to sit still. He pulls away to tug off the boy’s trousers and boxers.

Arthur grins at his success of getting the boy naked, then lowers himself to his knees, cupping and caressing the hardening length before him.

“Fuck.” The boy’s eyes are on him, and he’s breathing hard, but Arthur’s not complaining. There’s nothing about this situation that Arthur disapproves of.

He wraps his lips around the boy’s cock, sucking on it for a while. Arthur’s head spins as he tastes the pre-come oozing out of the head. He pulls off with a filthy pop before going back again, this time, taking more and more of the delightful flesh into his mouth.

The boy gives off a retinue of expletives as Arthur slides up and down his prick. Relishing the sound, Arthur hollows out his cheeks as he sucks, while his hand plays with the boy’s bollocks.

“Fuck, Arthur!”

Arthur pulls off again to nuzzle the boy’s creamy thigh. “You taste good,” he whispers.

“Shut up.”

He stands up, then says, “Turn around.”

The boy refuses to move. “No, Arthur! You are _not_ fucking me dry!”

Arthur couldn’t help it; he laughs. Sometimes he really does wonder how the boy’s mind works. Arthur can never gauge what he’ll say next.

Not even the boy’s sullen face can curb his amusement.

“No, I’m not going in dry, you idiot. Come on, turn around.”

After a moment, the boy follows and bends over the counter. Arthur wants to put his tongue _there_ , but knows it won’t be liked, so he settles for using his spit instead. Before long, the boy is writhing on the counter, begging constantly for Arthur to fill him.

Arthur offers a hand to him and says, “Get this wet, or else it’ll hurt.”

As the boy laves his hand with spit, Arthur continues opening up the boy’s hole. He pushes in and out, scissoring his fingers every time, curling them around, looking for that one spot that will make the boy underneath him spasm.

“Ah! Shit, Arthur, there!”

“Shh, take it easy, little minx. Sit on the counter.” Arthur opens the zipper of his trousers and pulls his prick out, using his wet hand to tug on his cock for a while, getting it slick and ready. Then, he fills up the boy slowly, as slow as he could stand, watching the boy’s face the entire time.

The boy gasps at the intrusion, causing Arthur to stop for a while before moving in again. He spits on the boy’s hole repeatedly, not wanting to hurt him. Legs wrap around his hips and arms loop around his neck as he successfully slides in deep, his balls resting against the boy’s arse, a delicious taste of friction.

He waits for the boy to get settled, and at his nod, starts moving his hips. The boy gasps and sighs instead of his usual groans and curses, and Arthur just knows he’s hurting him. He opens the nearest cupboard to find something, _anything_ , to ease the way.

When he sees what he’s doing, the boy puts a hand on Arthur’s arm. “No, it’s alright. I’m…I’m fine. Just…move. Yeah…”

Arthur does as he’s told, moving around to hit the boy’s prostate, and knows he’s found it when the boy arches his back and produces a loud and filthy moan that he’s sure can be heard by their neighbours miles away. Arthur snaps his hips then, the tension in his body rising as the boy digs his nails into Arthur’s skin, his heels on Arthur’s arse increasing the pressure of his thrusts.

The boy still has his mouth open, panting as if his life depends on it, and driving Arthur crazy with his pink tongue. So he leans in and gives said tongue a filthy lick, and soon their tongues are battling, fucking in tune with the rhythm of their hips.

“Sir?”

It’s Leon.

“Shit!” the boy says, as he lowers his head and uses Arthur’s body as a cover. Arthur turns his head and sees Leon staring wide-eyed at the view before him. Leon can’t see the boy’s naked body but for his bare legs, and Arthur’s still completely clothed except for his dick, but there’s no question as to what they’re doing on the kitchen counter.

Arthur doesn’t stop his thrusts, only slows them down, forcing a filthy moan from the boy again.

“Dammit, Leon, can’t you see I’m busy?!” he roars, because they should know better than to just interrupt him.

“Sorry, sir,” Leon says, looking at the ceiling. “They’re ready for you.”

“Fine,” Arthur bites out. “Tell them to fucking wait.”

He watches Leon leave before turning back to the boy underneath him. He fucks into the boy as hard as he can and says, “You better come now or you won’t be coming at all.”

“Ah! Arthur…” the boy is sweating, his cock bouncing on his belly, dripping pre-come everywhere. “You fucking…idiot…told you…ah! There! Right there! Oh!”

The boy’s muscles tighten around his girth, and Arthur knows he’s close. He takes the boy’s length in his hand and starts tugging it in time with his thrusts. A few more pulls and the boy’s coming, spilling into Arthur’s hand and onto his stomach, Arthur following soon after.

They stay like that for a while, each breathing heavily. The boy lowers his legs and winces as Arthur pulls out. From his angle, he can see the boy’s hole winking, looking for something to hold on to, and again Arthur is overcome with the need to lavish that hole with attention.

After using the boy’s jumper to clean them both, Arthur zips up his trousers, but doesn’t move away. The boy nuzzles his chest, sighing. “Who’s…who’s waiting for you?” the boy asks, voice hoarse and exhausted.

This is the second time the boy inquires about his job, and he tries to stay still. The boy is too curious, but not dangerous, as far as Arthur knows, so he’ll just have to address that issue later. “Are you going to ask me if they’re bad men again?” The boy keeps silent. “They’re just business associates.”

The boy just burrows deeper into his chest.

Pulling away, Arthur picks up the boy’s trousers and gives it to him. “Wait for me in the bedroom. I’ll be right there, I promise.”

At the boy’s nod, Arthur leaves, knowing that the best and worst decision of his entire life is naked in the kitchen and completely fucked out.

 

\----------==========----------

 

He’s told Arthur when he said that he only has an inkling of what the man does for a living. Merlin is curious, of course, and he can’t help but look for signs as to what Arthur does when he’s not fucking Merlin’s brains out.

They’re on the patio at the back of the house. Merlin is straddling Arthur’s lap as they feed each other bits of breakfast and trade playful kisses. Arthur has his hand underneath Merlin’s jumper, rubbing his thumb on his skin, and it makes Merlin feel oddly domestic.

That is, until George comes out with the paper. The man steps out onto the patio with not even a word, but there’s no mistaking the pointed look he sends Arthur as he hands him the paper.

It’s not the usual paper that Arthur reads every day. In fact, it looks like a tabloid—it has a photo of a celebrity on the front and it talks about a new Jane Eyre series. Arthur is silent as he opens up the paper to a marked page and reads the headline: Avalon Corporation a Front for Money Laundering?

Avalon Corporation is Arthur’s legitimate company that acts as a cover for his other…ventures. It’s one of the biggest companies in city and employs plenty of people. Merlin sometimes think that Arthur is there most of the time when he’s not at the mansion, but then he would hear some of the staff talk about Arthur coming home from the other side of Camelot, that Merlin is unsure what to think.

Not wanting Arthur to know that he’s snooping, Merlin curls against Arthur’s chest and licks the man’s neck, all the while trying to read the article. The man doesn’t even get distracted or give Merlin his attention, just carries on reading. This goes on for a while until Arthur, being the fast reader that he is, signals for George to come forward.

“Send Leon, Gwaine, and Percival a message. Tell them to be here immediately.” At George’s nod, Arthur leans back again and tips a strawberry into Merlin’s mouth. Once Merlin breaks the flesh of the fruit, Arthur pulls him forward and licks into his mouth. “Hmm…tastes better coming from your lips,” Arthur says lightly, but he can tell that the man is distracted, and not by Merlin’s arse rolling against his crotch.

Merlin rubs Arthur’s chest through his suit as he asks, “You’re worried. What’s happened?”

Arthur looks away. Merlin’s about to take back his question when Arthur says, “It’s nothing. Just some problems with work. Don’t worry about it.” Without another word, Arthur moves him away gently as he stands up. He kisses Merlin and says, “I have some business to take care of. Why don’t you watch movies in the library or swim in the pool for a bit?”

Arthur is greedy with Merlin’s time, wanting him to be near always, but when there are things that need to be taken care of, Arthur lets him do whatever he wants or go wherever he wants. He decides to just go to city to deposit the money that Arthur’s accountant gave him last week.

At first, the accountant asked him for a name to put on the check, but he shook his head. Arthur, looking impeccable in his three piece suit and sitting behind his huge desk, gave him that soul-searching look again. Merlin thought that he’d push the issue, but he just turned to the accountant and said, “Cash. Every week.”

He opened up an account in the city’s bank with his first pay, plus the money that he’d saved up in the box, and he’d been depositing since then. Arthur’s attention will not last forever, and Merlin knows enough that it’d be better to save the money for the day when Arthur will say it’s over.

Truth is, he’s still a whore, and Arthur will most definitely get tired of him sooner or later. He’ll find someone new, someone better.

As he steps out of the bank, Merlin has this feeling that someone’s watching him. He looks around. It’s the middle of the morning, businesspeople are milling about, some talking on their phones or talking to each other. He sees no one suspicious, so he lets it go. But the feeling stays with him all the way back to the mansion.

“There’s no reason to believe that he knows, sir. And the attack was clearly meant to damage the club, but not the girls.”

Merlin hears Leon as soon as he enters the house. He frowns. He’s been out for hours, having had lunch at the park, and yet Leon is still here with Arthur.

“Well, make sure of it!” Arthur roars through the slightly open office door.

And then he hears a familiar thump that Merlin has come to associate with people falling on the ground. He opens the door wider to see Arthur holding a gun to a man’s head. At the loud creak of the door, Arthur and his men turn to look at him, a disturbing reprise of his first day. But this time, Arthur’s head snaps up and Merlin sees a changed man. He still looks perfect, hair and tie in place, but the gentle eyes are gone, replaced by a deep blue storm, angry and dangerous. Merlin holds his breath, afraid that the gun will be trained at his head.

It is Leon who breaks the silence. “Sir, you shouldn’t be here.”

“What—what did he do?”

As Leon’s about to close the door, Arthur growls, “Leon! I’ll take care of him. You take care of this vermin.” With a final kick to the helpless man’s stomach, Arthur strides towards him and grabs his arm.

“Wait, wait, Arthur,” he says in a rush, digging his heels into the carpet. “What are you going to do with him? What’s he done?”

Arthur tightens his grip on Merlin, then pulls him flush against him. Merlin can tell that Arthur is trying to control himself, his jaw grinding.

“Come with me,” Arthur hisses against Merlin’s lips, and it takes everything of him to not turn his face away. “You really don’t want to test my patience right now. George!”

Arthur doesn’t even wait for an answer as he drags Merlin up the staircase and into his room. Merlin’s room. The one Merlin hasn’t slept in since he arrived here.

Arthur throws him on the bed, slams the door, and locks it. Merlin gets up quickly, facing the angry man. If it comes to a fight, he knows he’ll lose—Arthur is stronger and far more experienced that he is—but Merlin will make damn sure that he’ll give the man a challenge.

The blond is standing near the door, staring at him, his chest heaving. Suddenly, Arthur’s on him, his hand around Merlin’s neck as his lips devour the younger man’s mouth. The kiss is so filthy and so wet that Merlin responds in kind immediately, grabbing the man’s golden hair and pulling hard. Arthur moves them, and a gasp is forced out of him as he’s slammed against a bed post, spine tingling at the impact. Arthur takes advantage of his open mouth to suck on his tongue, warm lips pulling him in and then pulling out with a wet pop.

Abruptly, the weight on him is gone, and Arthur is by the door again, looking at him.

“Arthur?”

“Whatever happens, whatever you hear, don’t leave this room, alright?”

Before Merlin can speak, Arthur throws the door open and slams it closed. “George,” he hears through the door, “lock it.”

He rushes to the door, but the click of the lock is already in place. He pounds on the door. “Arthur! Arthur, open this door! Arthur, don’t you dare leave me here! George! Open this door! Open this right now! Arthur!”

“Sir, please calm down,” George says on the other side of the door.

“George! Open this right now! Please!”

“I’ll come for you in the morning, sir.”


	4. The Aftermath

Merlin is awake even before the sun rises. After shouting himself hoarse, Merlin heard faint shuffling sounds coming from downstairs, but no one yelling. And no gun shots. Still, that doesn’t make him feel better.

Arthur was all ready to shoot the man, Merlin knows it. He wasn’t trying to teach the man a lesson, or trying to scare him. He was going to shoot him. When the adrenaline drained away, Merlin is left scared. Arthur has never looked at him like that, never seen that barely contained violence emanating from him. He scoffs at himself. What did he expect from a man who controls the mob? Teddy bears and rainbows?

Merlin’s life is just a series of bad decisions, and walking to Arthur Pendragon’s door is his latest one.

Just after six in the morning, Merlin hears the door unlock. The door opens and in comes Arthur. Suddenly, all his fears, all his hurt, comes rushing to the surface. He jumps up from the bed, and charges to Arthur.

"You prat!" Merlin screams as he throws a punch at the man.

His fist doesn't connect though, for Arthur just evades the blow as he catches his fist, then twists his arm behind him.

Merlin struggles against Arthur’s hold. He’s still angry about being locked inside his bedroom the entire night, not caring if the other man is furious with him, too.

"How dare you lock me up! Did you kill him? Did you? Let me go!"

"Easy, my little minx," Arthur says while tightening his grip.

"Don't call me that!"

In one smooth movement, Arthur moves them and deposits him face-down on the bed. Merlin writhes, trying to loosen Arthur's hold, but the prat is strong, and he keeps Merlin where he wants him.

"Then, what would you like for me to call you? You've hardly given me a name."

"And I'm not giving one. Arthur...Arthur, let me go." Merlin stops struggling to show that he won't attack anymore.

A few minutes pass before his arm is freed. He sits up and rubs the area, urging circulation back into his arm. Arthur sprawls on the chair beside the bed, just watching Merlin, not saying a thing.

"Did you kill him?" Merlin asks quietly.

"And why would I answer your question?"

"Did you have him killed?"

No answer.

"Arthur, I..." Merlin gulps, unsure as to how to go about this. He wants to leave, but he doesn't know where he'll go next. He's let go of his flat and he doesn't want to go back out on the streets. But, he's terrified of the Arthur last night. "Arthur, that man... You killed him, didn't you? Arthur, that's not right. That's—that’s not just trying to scare a man, you-you were going to pull the trigger!"

"What difference does it make, little minx?"

"What did they do to deserve that?"

"My little minx..." Arthur leans forward in his chair to nuzzle Merlin's hair. "I don't think you know how this goes. Let me explain it to you: I'm the boss, you are not. I don't have to explain anything to you. From now on, I want you to stay in this room when I tell you to. Are we clear?"

The words hurt Merlin, but he doesn't know why. Arthur's right; Merlin doesn't need to know those things. Even though Merlin wants to complain about them.

Arthur comes even closer and presses a kiss on Merlin's neck. Without meaning to, Merlin flinches. There's just something about Arthur that is dangerous right now. Arthur freezes and just stays there—his breath against Merlin's neck, his lashes fluttering against Merlin's cheek. Then he backs away.

"Your breakfast is almost ready. Come downstairs when you want to eat," Arthur says without looking at Merlin. The he leaves the room and closes the door with a definite click.

 

\----------==========----------

 

Arthur went away and Merlin is trying hard not to panic over that fact. He is so fucking stupid for turning away from the one man who is paying him for sex.

Merlin looks out the window of his bedroom to watch the household staff cover the pool. George told him that Arthur has gone away on business when he brought in Merlin’s breakfast that morning, and that he’ll be gone for a while. _A while_. Which can fucking mean anything.

It makes Merlin’s blood run cold whenever he sees Arthur like that—holding a gun, bright blue eyes turned dark, lips pursed into a firm line. It’s like a whole different Arthur standing in front of him with murder in every bone of his body.

However…winter is coming, and Merlin is loath to admit that he doesn’t want to spend every night walking the streets in the snow, getting hungry, and receiving dubious requests to be taken home and off the streets. He’s done exactly that for years now, and he’s looking forward to being warm this year with a roof over his head. If it meant having mind-blowing sex with a man who kills people for fun, then so be it.

Which brings him back to the problem at hand. He only had to make Arthur want him for a few months, and what did he do? He basically rejected the man’s request for sex. A whore rejecting his client for marvelous sex. Yes, that’s something, alright. Arthur is not a horrible man in bed, and Merlin would know; he has a vast collection of bad sex with various men. Being with Arthur is different, his touch is more passionate than cold, more kind than demanding. And Merlin certainly never had a problem getting aroused around that man.

He needs to keep Arthur sexually satisfied long enough for winter to come and go and for Merlin to save more money. Once that’s done, he can end the contract, no big deal. Now, he needs a plan of action to make Arthur Pendragon too blissed out from sex to even think about giving him the boot.

 

\----------==========----------

 

It's hard to avoid somebody when he has ingrained himself in your home. The boy is everywhere, and he won't stop making Arthur yearn.

He also won't stop making Arthur feel like shit.

The boy wasn't supposed to be home that day. When he goes to the city, he ordinarily gets home by nightfall. He was too early. The horror on his face is stuck in Arthur’s mind, and it won’t go away. He shouldn’t feel the need to protect the boy from the dangerous reality of his life, he’s just a whore.

But that doesn’t stop Arthur from feeling like a monster.

Somebody snuck into one of his clubs, C3, and trashed the place. A few of his strippers were hurt a bit, but the place would take a lot of money to redecorate. The man was the one link they could find. He was working for Muirden, a man who thinks that he can compete with Arthur’s empire. Arthur has killed plenty of people over the years, but after leaving the boy locked in his room, he couldn’t even hold the gun. With a nod to Leon, the gun passed hands, and his second-in-command didn’t fail in pulling the trigger. Arthur didn’t blink.

It's been a week, and he's just got back from Switzerland. Rich, unscrupulous people are always perfect for his business.

"Arthur?"

He turns to see the boy by the doorway of his office, wearing pyjamas, his eyes groggy, and hair a mess.

"You should be sleeping."

The boy shrugs. After a while he gripes, “I’m not allowed to leave the house now?”

Ah, yes. When he left, he gave the staff explicit instructions to keep the boy on the property.

“It’s too dangerous,” he explains, and pointedly takes his gun out from the waistband of his trousers and puts it on his desk. As expected, the boy watches the motion and keeps his eyes on the gun. Arthur fixes himself a drink from the bar. “And I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I told them to give you anything you want.”

“Except going to the city, you mean.”

“Except for that. Which reminds me, what did you need a laptop for?”

The boy asked for a laptop about a day after Arthur left. George gave it to him without delay, then reported back to Arthur, and Arthur is curious.

“For wanking,” comes the simple answer. Arthur raises an eyebrow at that. “What? It’s not like you’re here. And I couldn’t even go out to a pub to grab a bloke.”

He glares at the boy. “You had better not grabbed a bloke while I was away. I told you—“

“ _You don’t share_ , yeah, I remember, you clotpole. And I couldn’t even take one step out of this fucking mansion, your _guard dogs_ wouldn’t let me.”

Arthur smirks. “Don’t let Owain hear you say that. He’s very sensitive, gets hurt easily.” The boy rolls his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

“What do you mean, it’s too dangerous?”

This is one of the times when Arthur wishes that the boy doesn’t listen very well. “I have plenty of enemies, my sweet. What do you think it means?”

The boy crosses his arms. “Don’t you think that maybe—just maybe—if you stop killing all those people, then you wouldn’t have a lot of people who want to kill you in return?”

Tired as he is, he can’t help but smile. The boy is a sarcastic, seductive little shit with a mouth just begging to be ravished. He’s too exhausted to think, and he should really send the boy to bed before he decides to give that mouth something better to do than to give him snark. "Go to sleep, my sweet. I still have work to do."

The boy looks around the empty room as if expecting another person to jump out from behind his desk.

Arthur rolls his eyes. "I won't be shooting anybody, if that's what you're worried about."

“Why don’t you just come to bed?”

“I still have some things to do.”

“Arthur, come to bed with me—“

“Go to bed.”

The boy says nothing, just watches him for a little while more before nodding and leaving.

 

\----------==========------------

 

The moment Arthur enters his room, he knows that something’s off. The boy is sitting on his bed in the tightest shirt and pair of jeans he has ever seen, his legs spread out, eyes peering up at Arthur from underneath his lashes.

"Hi." The simple greeting sends a jolt through Arthur's stomach. The boy has planned something special for them tonight. The clothes he's wearing are too tight, and Arthur knows those were not the clothes he asked George to buy for the slender man. He also has that 'I want you to fuck me hard' smirk that he wears when walking the streets. His exhaustion swiftly disappears.

"Hello. I thought I told you to sleep?" Arthur greets him in return, willing to let this one play out.

"What took you so long?" The boy asks, not moving an inch other than to bite his lips, tempting Arthur.

Arthur shrugs, playing along to whatever it is that the boy has planned. "Work. People fucking up their jobs, that sort of thing."

Finally, _finally_ , the boy stands up, walking slowly towards Arthur. "You work too hard," the boy coos, both hands landing on Arthur's chest, kneading the flesh through the fabric of Arthur's shirt. The boy leads him to the edge of the bed before pushing him down. "Sit," comes the command, one Arthur doesn't mind following.

The boy then walks to the low console set against one wall of Arthur's sitting room, and pushes some buttons on the stereo Arthur keeps there before walking back to Arthur.

A slow and heavy beat comes from the speakers, and the boy puts his hands on Arthur's shoulders. "Tonight, I want you to relax."

A woman's voice comes on, and the boy starts swaying his hips in time with the music. Slowly, intimately.

The boy is giving him a _lap dance_.

Arthur gulps audibly. If he thought that the boy was seductive when he was dancing in his kitchen, then the boy’s definitely _on fire_ as he performs in front of Arthur.

Running his hands down his own chest, the boy slowly lowers himself to the floor, all the while maintaining the sway of his hips, denim-clad arse touching Arthur's knees once in a while. Coming back up, the boy straddles Arthur's legs and then _grinds down_ , the beat a heavy presence in the room, matching the boy's rhythm. The boy is in charge, of both Arthur and the music, and Arthur is entranced.

Arthur sucks in a breath. He’s received plenty of lap dances in his life, but this one takes the cake. The boy has a natural grace and sensuality that turned Arthur on more quickly than a hand in his trousers. Hi jaw drops as the boy throws his head back, bouncing on Arthur’s lap in time with the heavy bass, looking just like he would in the throes of passion, and Arthur curses the fabric separating him from the boy’s heat. He grabs the grinding hips to keep it still, but the boy just shakes his head and stands back up. Putting his palms on Arthur's legs and separating them wide, the boy slithers up Arthur’s chest, swaying his entire body as he goes. Wanting to feel friction, Arthur arches his back to feel more of the luscious body on him and is rewarded with a graze of the boy’s lips on his own.

The boy's open mouth is near, so near, and Arthur dips his head to taste it, but the boy moves away and turns around, giving Arthur a fantastic view of his backside. Then, the boy lowers himself back on Arthur’s lap, rolling that delicious arse against his crotch. Arthur’s eyes roll back at the alternating soft and hard press against his person, cursing. “Fuck…”

Having had enough of all the sensual teasing, Arthur grabs the boy’s hips and then throws him on the bed, much to the boy’s annoyance.

“Arthur, I wasn’t done yet!” the boy huffs, his outrage putting a smile on Arthur’s face.

He ignores the boy as turns the music off. He’s not tired, not anymore, the boy’s impromptu dance number made sure of that. But what he plans to do needs complete silence, with only the boy’s harsh pants pervading the air.

“Clothes off, now.” The boy’s breath hitches, his eyes widening at the intensity of Arthur’s command, but the kid doesn't move an inch. Growing impatient, Arthur demands, "Well?"

The boy scrambles off the bed, and gingerly stands up. Arthur frowns. Does the boy not want to have sex? Surely, that's where things are going, right? The teasing, the dancing, the frotting? Arthur opens his mouth to take back the order, to reassure the boy that they don't have to do it right now, but the boy's fingers start fiddling with the hem of his shirt before he pulls the whole thing off. The boy looks nervous, and his cheeks and neck are tinged with pink as he fumbles with the button of his jeans.

The boy finally has his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, and is slowly pushing his trousers down. Arthur raises an eyebrow at the lack of underwear, but he's not complaining. He's all for easy access.

The boy's erection hasn't dwindled a bit, making Arthur smile. “On the bed, hands and knees,” Arthur orders as he grabs the lube from the bedside drawer.

Moving slowly, the boy does as he’s told, lowering his head on the bed and _presenting._

Arthur might just die of arousal over this boy. He walks closer to the foot of the bed, wanting to be inside the boy as quickly as he can. However, his throat dries as he sees a plug up the boy’s arse.

A fucking jeweled plug.

_Christ._

Yeah. Arousal is definitely going to kill him.


	5. Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin sees a friend from the past, and old sentiments come to the surface.

The boy’s pants are loud against Arthur’s ear. Arthur smiles; the boy was perfect the entire night, writhing against the sheets, moaning and gasping his name. And when the end finally came, he grasped Arthur’s shoulder tightly, and shouted Arthur’s name so loud he’s sure it was heard throughout the mansion.

Once his breath leveled, Arthur nuzzles the boy’s ear and says, “You bought a fucking plug.”

“Hmm?” The boy is sleepy and he struggles to open his eyes. “Oh, yeah. I just thought it might be a nice surprise.”

Arthur runs a hand up and down the boy’s chest as he ponders this. “How’d you manage to keep George from telling me about it?”

The boy frowns for a moment, before breaking out a huge smile. “I didn’t. I asked for a laptop so I could buy the plug  online .”

The answer is so unexpected that Arthur chuckles. This  thing —this natural ability of this boy to surprise him—is giving him plenty of doubts. This whore did something that none of Arthur’s past lovers even thought about—giving him a surprise  just because .

He settles his head further into the pillow, clutching the boy close to his side. During his week away, Leon warned him again of his growing obsession with the boy. A warning that was heard but unheeded because he already knows. He knows just how dangerous this  relationship —if you can call it that—is. The boy can be used against him, the boy can betray him, or the boy can sell information about him. But the thought of letting the boy go, of watching him leave, of seeing him fuck other people, is abhorrent. He wants to keep the boy here, in his bed, always.

The boy grunts, making Arthur realize just how hard he is gripping the boy’s slender waist. He relaxes his hold, tucking the boy’s head underneath his chin.

The problem can rest for another day.

 

\----------==========----------

 

Merlin comes out of the bank, having deposited another week’s wages. He kept some cash on hand, aiming to walk around the city for a while and buying those cupcakes that Arthur loves. He walks down the steps and onto the pavement, smiling at the memory of Arthur licking icing off his fingers slowly that first night he brought back cupcakes. And how Arthur swallowed down Merlin’s dick right after.

Realizing that he’s getting a boner right in the middle of the street, Merlin grimaces. What is he even doing? He must remember that Arthur is only after a convenient hole to put his cock in, not a boyfriend. Fantasising about the way Arthur’s eyes glaze over when Merlin breathes his name is not on. His brain is getting confused. It’s just the closeness of it all, the domesticity.  Arthur will discard him and throw him out  once he’s bored. And once that happens, he’ll find somebody else to suck his dick and to buy him cupcakes and to lick icing off of.

Merlin drags his feet on the pavement, deciding that he won’t buy cupcakes today. Arthur’s getting fat, anyway.

“ Merlin? ”

He turns his head to see a man with dark hair and high cheekbones. He seems familiar, but Merlin can’t place him.

“Merlin, it’s me, Will,” the man says.

He frowns. Was that supposed to jog his memory?

The man steps closer to him. “It’s William, Merlin. William from St. John’s? Remember me? We shared a room together.”

St. John’s Home for Boys. Huh. Merlin hasn’t thought about that place in years, not since he turned 18, and left the orphanage with only a rucksack containing his belongings and the clothes on his back. He eventually forgot all about it once he sucked a man’s dick within a week of becoming an adult just so he could buy something to eat.

Will was an old roommate. Merlin used to consider him his best friend. Used to. That all ended when Will got adopted by an elderly couple, leaving behind Merlin, never to be seen again. Merlin was inconsolable, went through the motions of everyday life, until one day he shook himself awake and buried his hurt deep. Not all boys get adopted, he knew. Will was just lucky.

Merlin releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Will,” he says, “of course I remember you.” And that seems to be enough for his old friend. Will smiles wide and then steps closer to give him a hug, thumping his back twice before letting go.

“It’s good to see you again, mate,” Will says, beaming at Merlin.

Merlin looks away. Will looks healthy and happy and  alright . He looks like what every young man should look like. His clothes aren’t new, but they’re not patched up in places, either. He’s clean and he’s clutching a mobile phone that Merlin  knows isn’t cheap. He knows it’s unfair to be jealous of the other man, but apparently, Merlin hadn’t buried his hurt deep enough.

“How’ve you been?” Will asks, clearing his throat slightly.

Merlin glances at him, and yes, Will is as uncomfortable as he is right this moment. “Fine,” he replies, opting for the short answer.

Will opens his mouth to say something else, but his phone chimes. He frowns, reads the text message, and then looks at Merlin again. “Listen, Merlin, I’ve to go. But I wanna see you again. Wanna grab some coffee sometime? Or a pint? Look, here’s number. I’ll call you to set it up.” Will says in a hurry, not even waiting for Merlin to say something. He just digs out a pen and what looks like a receipt from his pocket, and then writes his number down. Will tucks the paper into Merlin’s front pocket.

“I really have to go, mate. So sorry. But promise to call me, alright?” Will waits for a response.

Surprised and a little overwhelmed, Merlin nods.

Will smiles again. “Great. I’ll see you.” He waves a hand before crossing the street and out of Merlin’s sight.

 

\----------==========----------

 

His emotions are still all over the place when he gets home that night. Home. What a joke. He’s an interloper. This is not  home. This is just a place where he can sleep at night.

Merlin looks up to see Arthur leaning against the door of Merlin’s bedroom. “Hey, you. What are you doing here?”

He looks away, not wanting to admit whatever it is he’s feeling to Arthur. “If I remember correctly, you gave me this room.”

Arthur frowns. “Well, yeah. But you haven’t stayed in here for weeks. What’s going on?” Arthur walks over and sits on the bed next to Merlin. He looks so concerned, his forehead wrinkled, and blue eyes boring into his.

Finally, all the emotions—his hurt, jealousy, fear, worry—comes bubbling to the surface, and  Merlin just can’t take it anymore .

“Darling?” Arthur says.

Breathing deep, Merlin tackles Arthur down on the bed and straddles his waist. Filled with urgency and not knowing why, his fingers reach for Arthur’s shirt, pulling it out of his trousers and sending buttons flying. Satisfied that Arthur is no longer covered with a shirt, Merlin unbuckles Arthur’s belt, unzips his trousers, and pulls down both trousers and pants in one fluid motion.

“Darling...darling...” Arthur’s breath comes in gasps, and he reaches for Merlin’s jumper, but Merlin bats his hands away.

“No,” Merlin gasps, “no. You naked first.”

Arthur pushes Merlin up and off him to fully get rid of his pants and trousers. He also leans forward to take off his socks and shoes.

“There,” Arthur says, “satisfied?”

Merlin nods and reaches for the hem of his jumper. His face is hot, his gulping down oxygen, and he wants to get naked  right this fucking second . He’s semi aware that Arthur is watching his every move, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t even check if Arthur likes what he sees or is aroused with the skin being revealed—Merlin doesn’t care. Tonight, he’s in charge.

He climbs onto Arthur’s lap again, rubbing their cocks together as he sucks on Arthur’s tongue. Arthur is gripping his waist so tight it hurts, but Merlin doesn’t complain. It drives him to suck on Arthur’s tongue harder, and to grind their hips rougher.

Arthur leans away to drop his head on the mattress. When Merlin tries to follow him, he grips Merlin’s hips. “Wait, wait, sweetheart. I need to breathe.”

Panting, but not wanting to sit still, Merlin leans over to rummage through his bedside drawer for the bottle of lube he  knows is in there somewhere. Pulling out the almost-full bottle, he turns around, and, keeping his legs wide and either side of Arthur’s waist, Merlin starts to prepare himself.

“ Holy fuck ,” he hears Arthur hiss, but he doesn’t turn around or acknowledge him. The first breach of his finger extracts a rough heave from his lungs. It doesn’t feel as good as when Arthur opens him up, but it’s a near second. He’s missed doing this, getting himself ready for a hard cock. Arthur loves playing with his hole so much that he automatically fingers Merlin open whenever they have sex.

Merlin adds another finger with a sharp breath. He drops his head back as he starts moving his hips up and down his fingers. He touches his prostate, and the room spins.

He arches his back as Arthur runs a hand down his spine. “Darling, on your back,” Arthur says.

Merlin pulls his hands out of his hole, and turns back around to face Arthur. He shakes his head. “Not tonight, Arthur.”

He grabs the lube again to cover Arthur’s erection, then slowly lowers himself. It is slow going, with Merlin’s mouth hanging open, dragging in as much air as he could, as Arthur’s cock goes deep inside him. Once he’s fully seated, he grips the delicious juts of Arthur’s hipbones, and moves his hips in slow circles. Arthur hisses through his teeth, digging his fingers into Merlin’s thighs in a grip that will surely bruise by morning. Merlin’s cock is leaking, but he ignores it in favor of sliding up carefully, making sure to keep just the tip of Arthur’s cock inside him before going back down again.

There’s power in setting up the pace of their fucking. Arthur doesn’t control the situation, doesn’t flip Merlin onto his back to rut into him, and it’s  glorious . Merlin leans over to press an open-mouthed kiss on Arthur’s lips, the cock inside him prodding against his prostate. Merlin keens, then fucks himself on Arthur’s cock harder. Soon, he’s riding Arthur roughly, harder than he’s ever done before. Before long, he’s spilling on Arthur’s stomach without even touching himself.

Arthur orgasms soon after, clutching Merlin hard. Merlin rides him through it, only stopping when the both of them are too sensitive to go any further. Arthur cleans them up, then settles beside him in the bed again.

Merlin turns his head towards Arthur as the man settles his hand around Merlin’s stomach, rubbing his thumb on Merlin’s hipbone. “What was that all about?” Arthur asks.

“Nothing,” Merlin shrugs.

Arthur smiles. “I can tell that you’re lying. But whatever it is, I like it. That was hot.”

Merlin smiles as well, but looks away to keep whatever it is he’s feeling away from Arthur’s prying. He still has doubts, but at least he feels better now. He glances at his phone on the bedside table. Tomorrow, he’ll call Will.


	6. Getting to Know Each Other Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin meets Will for lunch, and they get to know each other again.
> 
> *This is a bit short, but it's been too long, it's harder write about this world. Don't worry, though, I'm already writing the next one!*

Merlin is tapping his foot underneath the table as he waits for Will. He’s early, but he’d rather be early than not come at all. He waited for Arthur to leave the house before going out as well, knowing full well that Arthur will ask questions if he sees Merlin leave before him.

Perhaps this isn’t a great idea after all. It’s been ages since they’ve seen each other. Merlin has changed, and it’s obvious that Will has changed, too, and it’s not like they have anything in common, other than the fact that they were both orphans.

Before he can stand up to leave, the door to the coffee shop opens, and in comes Will. He’s wearing a pair of denims and a simple jumper, but he still looks like a young professional with money. Merlin sighs, and knows that he shouldn’t have called Will in the first place.

Will’s smile is bright as he sees Merlin. “Merlin!” Merlin tries to reciprocate the gesture, but he must have failed because Will’s smile drops a bit. Will visibly squares his shoulders before sitting down opposite Merlin. “How have you been, mate?”

Merlin shrugs. Where shall he start? The homelessness? The prostitution that he started to escape the homelessness? Arthur Pendragon? “Fine. You?”

Will shrugs, too. This is too awkward for the both of them, so they should quit while they’re ahead. Finishing up his coffee, he leans forward for a bit of courage for what he’s about to say. “Look, Will, I think this is a mistake—“

“It’s not,” Will interrupts. “It’s just new, is all. You were my best friend, Merlin. I never forgot about you, at all.”

Merlin looks away.

“I begged my parents to adopt you too, did you know? I knew they couldn’t do it; they were old, after all. But, I still asked. Anyway, I’m just glad I found you again.” Will smiles again, tentative and shy, and Merlin knows that Will is as nervous as he is about this meeting. Merlin nods.

“Great! So, how have you been? And for real this time,” Will asks, smiling.

Not wanting to tell Will about his past or present, Merlin throws the question back at Will, who laughs gamely and starts telling his story.

\------------==========------------

 

Great, normal childhood after the orphanage, studied Journalism in uni, working for the Camelot Daily—Merlin now knows for certain that he has nothing in common with Will. And they never will. Merlin smiles through it all, keeping his jealousy and hurt deep inside. There’s no use, is there? Will is a happy man, has a happy life. Educated. Completely whole. Free.

Despite all that, he continues to meet up with Will every week or so. It’s nice to have a person who doesn’t know what he does for a living. Every time Will asks him about himself, Merlin smiles and gives vague answers. He tells Will about the things he likes, has pointed out the building where he first lived during one of their walks around the city, even took him to the Indian restaurant by the bay that he loves so much—but never about his profession or lack of education.

Arthur notices that he’s been going out more. He explains that Will is a friend from the children’s home. Having heard this, Arthur immediately thinks that Will is a fellow prostitute, as if all orphanage kids end up as prostitute. Merlin snorts, but doesn’t correct Arthur. It’s better to not answer any questions about Will.

Merlin leans against his chair, waiting for Will to arrive. Will has a terrible habit of being late, but Merlin doesn’t mind. It gives him time to get into the right frame of mind, gives him the space he needs to bury his feelings deep and keep a brave face for the entire day. Merlin supposes that he’ll never be not jealous of Will.

He looks up with a smile as the door opens. But, instead of Will, there’s Arthur, in another pristine suit, blonde hair perfectly in place, and looking straight at him. He sucks in a breath.

Has he been found out?

Merlin gives himself a mental shake. Even if Arthur found out about Will, it doesn’t matter. He’d told Arthur about Will—perhaps not everything about him—but still. They’re doing nothing wrong.

Arthur goes straight to his table, making Merlin’s heart pound. Arthur doesn’t look angry, but Merlin never knows when Arthur is angry. Oh, Merlin can tell when the other is excited or frustrated or even happy, but never angry. Arthur hides his anger well.

“Arthur,” he says, “what are you doing here?”

Arthur smirk and shrugs. “I just saw you through the windows and decided to drop by. What are you doing here?”

To lie or not to lie? Will is on his way, about half an hour away according to his last text message, and him and Arthur meeting is not on. His old friend will know who Arthur is in an instant, and then Merlin won’t be able to hide the truth anymore.

“Just having coffee,” he explains.

Arthur looks around the coffee shop. “Is your friend here yet?” he asks with forced nonchalance.

_Oh._ Understanding courses through him. He stands up from the table and throws a couple of notes on the table before facing Arthur. “Is that what this is? You’re following me? Spying on me?”

Arthur looks sheepish but not repentant. “Well, not spying…”

Merlin grits his teeth. “ _Unbelievable.”_ Merlin walks out of the shop, with Arthur close behind.

“I just wanted to meet him, you know.”

He whirls around to poke a finger into Arthur’s chest. “You couldn’t have asked like a normal person?” he shouts, making fellow pedestrians look at them. Flushing, he continues walking down the street, not having a certain destination in mind.

“Would you have agreed had I asked?” Arthur asks.

He stops walking, his breath coming in short pants. Time for truth, then.

“Of course not!”

“See?” Arthur is frowning, but satisfaction of being right shows all over his beautiful face. “And why not? Don’t want your two lovers to meet face-to-face? Is he paying you more for the privilege of fucking you?”

Merlin faced Arthur, pulled his right arm back, and punched Arthur square in the jaw. Arthur is so surprised that Merlin’s hand actually made contact with Arthur’s face, much to Merlin’s astonishment. Arthur glared at him from underneath his blond fringe, but Merlin only glares back. “You prick. Will’s a friend—just a friend. Just because you don’t have any friends doesn’t mean I suffer the same fate as you. You probably won’t even recognize a real friend if it punched you in the face.”

Merlin pulls out his phone and presses the call button for Will.

“Calling your boyfriend?” Arthur snarls at him.

“Yes, in fact. I’m just telling him I’ll be a little late.” In his ear, Will’s phone trills but he doesn’t answer. Perhaps he’s in the midst of a bad traffic? Perhaps he’s already in the coffee shop?

“He won’t answer,” Arthur says softly.

“What?”

“He won’t answer.”

Suddenly, a black car pulls up beside them, the passenger door opening instantly. Arthur grabs Merlin’s arm and shoves him inside, Merlin’s knees hitting the car floor hard. He pulls himself up to sit next to Leon, who is sitting by the other door.

“Arthur! What the fuck are you doing?” He snarls as Arthur sits next to him and closes the car door.

“I am taking you back where you belong. You’ve had your fun with your _friend_ ,” Arthur sneers, “but now, it’s time to return to the real world.” Arthur glances at the phone still in Merlin’s hand. “Go ahead and call him, if you like, but he won’t answer.”

Fear—stronger than he’s ever known—chills Merlin to the bone. “What have you done to him?” Merlin whispers.

Arthur stays silent, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

“Arthur. Arthur, what have you done to him?” When no answer is forthcoming, he grabs Arthur’s arm and shakes it hard. “Arthur, you bastard, what did you do to him?!”

Arthur pulls his hand away, and looks at Leon. “Gag him.”

Merlin tries to fight, but Leon is faster and stronger. In an instant, he has a handkerchief between Merlin’s mouth, tied around his head. Merlin still struggles, fists hitting Arthur repeatedly, but the man doesn’t seem fazed by the violence. In fact, it’s not like he registers it at all.

“I just showed your friend what happens when someone tries to steal my property. Now, keep still, Merlin. You won’t want to hurt yourself.

Merlin whimpers from behind the gag as he lists all the possible escapes in his head. Escape that looks slimmer by the second, because the moment they step inside the Pendragon Mansion, he knows Arthur won’t let him leave.


	7. Will Wakes Up, Merlin Goes Under

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes up in the hospital, while Merlin is taught a valuable lesson in ownership.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you guys are tired of me saying something about work, so here's a promise that I'm writing as fast I can in whatever available time I can find. :)

The next time will wakes up, he’s in a hospital plugged into countless machines.

His nurse tells him that some campers found him near the edge of the forest park, bruised and unconscious. He tries to move, but every pull of his muscle results in complete agony.

Two policemen come in, one in his late 40s with greying hair, and one in his 30s with blond hair. As a reporter, he knows how this goes. So, he gives the cops as much information as he can: No, he didn’t know who took him; No, he didn’t see their faces; No, he wasn’t tortured, just beat up.

“Why did they take you, do you know?” the older policeman asks.

“Yes,” he croaks, “they’re looking for my friend, Merlin.”

The cops look at each other, then turns back to him. “Merlin?”

“Yeah. They---they showed me a picture of Merlin, and asked me…”

“Asked you…?”

Will closes his eyes as realization hits him, and his breath quickened. “Asked me who he was to me. Oh god, oh god. Is this because of my work? You have to find him. Please, you have to find him.”

In his agitation, the monitor beside his bed starts beeping. His nurse comes in again, shoos away the cops, and starts fiddling with the machines.

“Find him, please,” he rasps as he feels the drugs putting him under, “please, help my friend.”

\-----=====-----

_“Now, keep still, Merlin. You won’t want to hurt yourself.”_

Merlin is terrified. Like properly terrified.

Arthur knows his name. _Arthur knows his name._

How is that even possible?

Merlin has never seen Arthur _that_ angry, not even when he showed up in the man’s office when he wasn’t supposed to. This time, Arthur’s eyes are blazing, his jaw set and stiff, and his grip too tight. Merlin is dragged to his room, Arthur following him inside and locking the door behind them. He takes off Merlin’s gag, but he isn’t at all gentle about it.

“Well, _Merlin_ , here we are. What are we to do now?”

“Arthur, what--?”

“Your friend was good enough to give me your name.”

His heart is beating wildly in his chest, but he still raises a chin in defiance. “And how sure are you that that’s my real name? I give lots of johns different names—“

“But he’s not just a random somebody, is he? You made me believe he’s a whore like you.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow at that. “I never _said_ he was a whore—“

“You let me believe that he was!”

“—and who he is is none of your business! Why are you doing this, Arthur? We had an agreement on paper, that’s it! This is just a business transaction, isn’t that what you said?”

Arthur grabs his arm, and yanks him forward, forcing Merlin to collide into Arthur’s chest. He feels fingers on his scalp, and he gasps as his head is wrenched back. His throat is exposed, and he wonders if Arthur is going to slit his throat.

All because of a few coffees with a friend—what a quick and stupid way to die.

“And I also said that I don’t share,” Arthur snarls against his mouth before closing the distance and plunging his tongue down Merlin’s throat.

The kiss is intense. Merlin wouldn’t call it a kiss—it’s a fucking. Arthur is fucking his mouth with his tongue. Arthur goes deep, tasting every nook and cranny of Merlin’s mouth, pulling moans and gasps from Merlin’s chest. He’s relentless is conquering Merlin’s mouth and tongue and throat, and Merlin can’t breathe—

When Arthur finally lets him go, Merlin is breathing hard, and he knows, even without looking down that he has an erection.

He hates Arthur for it. He hates Arthur for getting him hard just with a kiss. And he hates himself for how he reacts to the mob boss.

Merlin jerks his arm from Arthur’s hold. “Let me go, Arthur!”

Arthur just grips his arm tighter, and Merlin suspects there will be bruises. “No!”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this!” he hisses back. “Will is just a friend! That’s it. And I don’t even have to fucking explain anything to you, so let me go, damn it!”

“He doesn’t get to touch what’s mine!” Arthur snarls at him, and before he can react, Merlin finds himself rammed against the nearest wall chest-first, his hands behind him. He gasps, the impact sending pain through his nerves.

“Arthur! What are you doing?” He feels stiff leather against his arm, and he catches on to what Arthur intends to do. _Arthur’s belt._ He tries to get away, but Arthur has already secured the belt around his wrists. “Arthur. Arthur, please! Please, let me go. You’re hurting me! _Please!_ ”

“No. You haven’t learned your lesson, have you? When I say you’re mine, I mean you’re _only_ mine. Make no mistake about it.” Arthur tightens the belt, the edges digging into Merlin’s skin. Merlin is breathing hard, and he can feel his erection starting to get uncomfortable. “And that also means that nobody gets to use your name before I do.” Arthur leans closer, nuzzling the back of his ear. Merlin feels Arthur’s breath ruffling the minute hairs in the area with every exhale, sending jolts of pleasure to Merlin’s chest every single time. “Only I, _Merlin_ , am allowed to use your name, to kiss you, to fuck you, to make you scream in pleasure. Do you understand that?”

 _Oh, fuck._ Arthur’s words go straight to his cock, and Merlin has to bite his lips to keep from moaning out loud. Only Arthur has ever had the power to make Merlin beg on his knees, and Merlin would rather die than let the mob boss know how much his little speech affects him.

“Well?” Arthur asks, but Merlin resolutely keeps his mouth shut, until Arthur pulls his hair, making him tip his head back. “I asked you a fucking question, Merlin.”

A mixture of pain and pleasure makes him heave, his breathing harsh even to his own ears. “Yes,” he rasps out.

“Yes, what, my sweet, sweet little minx?”

He can feel Arthur’s smile against his cheek.

“Yes, I understand, Arthur.”

“Good,” Arthur croons before licking a stripe up Merlin’s cheek.

 _Oh, god._ Arthur is going to fuck him right now, up against this wall, just to prove his point, and Merlin’s erection twitches at the thought of Arthur pounding into him right where he’s standing, his clothes still on, his trousers and pants just shoved down low enough to expose his arse. He can’t help it this time, _he moans_ , and he feels rather than hear Arthur chuckle behind him, and Merlin hates himself for being so weak.

Then, a phone rings, but it sounds so far away. Merlin feels Arthur move away from him, and speak into the phone, and he doesn’t move from where his cheek is plastered against the wall, even without instruction. He’s hard, and he’s panting, and his mind is torn between begging for Arthur’s cock, or pleading to be released.

Arthur comes back, and tilts Merlin’s head back again, this time gentler. He gives Merlin a filthy open-mouthed kiss. “I’m afraid we’ll have to leave this for later, my little minx. _Merlin._ I need to take care of business.”

With that, Arthur sweeps out of the room, leaving Merlin alone and completely bereft. Once the door closes behind Arthur, Merlin slides down the wall, and gets his breathing in order.

He wants him. He wants Arthur to come back and fuck him senseless. He wants.


	8. Merlin Learns the Meaning of Possession

When Arthur reaches the bottom of the stairs, Detective Arnold and Richards are waiting for him.

“Well? What did Will Montgomery say?” he demands, anger rising just at the thought of the man. He doesn’t know where all this jealousy is coming from. It’s dangerous and worrying, he knows, but he can’t stop. He doesn’t want to stop.

He wants to own this boy, this Merlin, in the best and worst ways possible.

“Sir,” says Arnold, “he doesn’t suspect a thing. He thinks it’s about his work. He also believes we’re looking into it.”

Arthur nods, satisfied that his plans are coming along nicely. If ever this _Will Montgomery_ pursues the issue, they can bury him in a mountain of red tape. “Good. Talk to Leon about your payment.”

The cops smirk, then go away. Just as well, Arthur is getting tired of their presence. He wants to get back upstairs.

 

\----------==========----------

 

Arthur returns to Merlin carrying a fruit plate and a glass of water. The boy is right where he left him, except on his knees, slumped against the wall. Crying.

“Why are you doing this, Arthur?” Merlin asks.

Why, indeed. Instead of answering, Arthur puts the plate and glass on the nearest table. There’s no good answer to the question, really. He can’t explain why the thought of Merlin in another person’s arms makes him angry; seeing Merlin come home from one of his coffee dates with Will makes his blood boil. It’s nothing as simple as jealousy, because in all his life, Arthur has always held the belief that two people can be adults and end things when it’s no longer beneficial.

No, this. This is more than jealousy. This is _possession_.

Arthur wants to chain the boy to his bed, and never let him out of his sight. He wants to keep Merlin hidden from the world, somewhere far where no man or woman can touch him or kiss him or fuck him. Arthur wants Merlin to know no other name than his.

He is in so deep, he doesn’t know if he can find a way out.

Merlin’s whimper brings him out of his thoughts so, he turns around to face the consequences of his actions.

Arthur lifts Merlin up, and carries him to the bed. He unties Merlin’s hands, and gently massages the muscles. Merlin’s whimpers are reduced to sniffles now, although he’s still weeping profusely.

“Why…?” Merlin sounds so broken, making Arthur wince.

“Shh,” Arthur tries to comfort the boy, “I’m sorry, little minx. I’m sorry.” Arthur starts kissing Merlin’s neck and shoulders. “Shh.”

“I don’t know what’s going on anymore, Arthur.” Merlin sobs.

“I just don’t want to share you with anyone. I just want you to be mine alone.” Arthur replies, shifting Merlin’s shirt up and caressing every sliver of skin that he can reach. “Do you understand me, my beautiful, beautiful _whore_?” He asks, sucking on the flesh of Merlin’s waist.

Merlin nods.

Arthur lifts himself to press his lips on Merlin’s temple. “I want to hear you say it, my darling. Say it for me. Please?”

Merlin’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times before a sound comes out. With tears still falling freely from his eyes, he whispers: “I’m yours. Just yours.”

Arthur hisses at the words, and to stop himself from saying anything that he might regret, he captures Merlin’s mouth in a savage kiss.

It is wet and filthy and oh, so good. Arthur grabs Merlin by the neck to keep him close and open and wanting. And Merlin, his sweet darling Merlin, offers his tongue for Arthur to suck on. Arthur happily does so until they can no longer breathe. He pulls off of Merlin and tugs his clothes off, wanting to get to all that tantalizing pale skin quickly.

“Arthur?” Merlin looks dazed—he’s panting, his eyes wide and a darker shade of blue, his lips swollen and delicious looking. Arthur doesn’t even try to stop himself; he swoops up to catch Merlin’s bottom lip to nibble at while taking off his own clothes.

Once he’s naked, Arthur glides his body against Merlin’s, reveling in the sweet slide of sweat and skin. He aligns their cocks, and he ruts once, smirking when Merlin rocks up to him. They frot again. Merlin’s mouth falls open. The sight is utter sin.

Arthur dips two fingers into Merlin’s open mouth, and the boy—the beautiful, obedient boy—immediately sucks on them. Merlin moans, prompting Arthur to move his fingers in and out, in and out. Arthur’s cock throbs at the debauched scene, and suddenly he can’t fuck Merlin quickly enough.

He pulls out his fingers, leans over to grab the lube from the bedside table, and rapidly prepares Merlin. It’s perfunctory at best, but Arthur can’t bring himself to care. He wants to be inside the boy _right now_.

Arthur spreads Merlin’s legs up and out, and Merlin keens. He lines his erection, and, in one swift movement, enters Merlin’s welcome heat. The boy wails, clawing at Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur stays perfectly still, his pelvis flush against Merlin’s thighs, to let the boy get used to being full.

When the boy relaxes enough, Arthur leans closer until Merlin is almost folded in half.

Arthur thrusts, and Merlin groans long and deep. “Sweet Jesus Christ,” Merlin gasps, making Arthur smirk.

“You’re gorgeous spread out like this, Merlin. So hot. God, you’re gripping me so tight.” Arthur takes his time pulling out of Merlin, and when only the tip of his cock remains inside Merlin’s hole, he thrusts quickly back in. Merlin moans. “You like this, don’t you? You like it when I use you as my own personal fucktoy. Look at your cock, Merlin. You look like you’re about to burst.” Arthur speeds up, making Merlin gasp out little ‘ah, ah, ah’ noises.

“Mmm, you take my cock so well,” Arthur continues, and Merlin’s noises turn into grunts. “I want you to come on my cock alone, my beautiful minx. Can you do that, hmm? God, you can do it. I know you can.” Arthur presses Merlin’s legs closer to the bed slowing his movements.

The angle must be better for Merlin, because he loses it. His thighs start trembling and he shakes his head from side to side. “A-arthur! Arthur! _Fuck!_ ”

Arthur fucks him harder, shoving Merlin higher up the bed, his body arched, his ribs showing. Arthur slides one hand up Merlin’s torso to tease his nipples. Merlin grabs his hand, but doesn’t push it away.

He squeezes the nipple, hard. “This is mine, isn’t it, Merlin?”

Merlin’s nod is abrupt, but he doesn’t speak; Arthur pinches harder. “Yes!” Merlin bursts out. “It’s yours. _Please, Arthur…_ ”

Arthur lets go of the nub to grab Merlin’s cock instead. “And this?”

Merlin whimpers. “It’s yours. It’s yours, it’s yours. Pleasepleaseplease…”

Unwrapping his hands from Merlin’s cock, he glides his hand to the place where they are connected. Teasing the puffy hole with a finger, Arthur asks, “And this?”

“Yours!” Merlin howls. “It’s yours. Only yours, Arthur.”

“And don’t you forget that. Now, come for me, my sweet.” Arthur slips a finger inside, right beside his cock, and Merlin comes with a shout. Arthur follows soon after.

Once his breathing evened out, Arthur untangles himself from Merlin, who has lost consciousness. Arthur checks Merlin’s breathing, and rearranged the boy’s limbs to make sure he’s comfortable, before getting Merlin’s plug from his own room and quickly using it on the boy. After a rapid cleanup, Arthur lies down next to Merlin to sleep.


	9. Someone Starts Asking the Right Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An agency gets involved into the mystery that is Merlin.

Interpol agent Officer Lancelot Coulter ended the call with Mr. Will Montgomery with something niggling at the back of his mind. Something about Mr. Montgomery’s attack is not right, but CCTV footage of Montgomery’s abduction confirms the identity of two people long suspected by the Interpol to work for Arthur Pendragon: Owain Dorsey and Bedivere Harlan. Journalists get in a lot of trouble with the mobs, sure, especially if they write an exposé about crime families or something along those lines. But Montgomery is on the lifestyle beat where he talks about the latest gadgets and tourism spots and some such nonsense, not crimes. And yet…

Once out of the hospital, Lance visited Will Montgomery to ask about the attack. He already saw the official report filed by one Detective Inspector Richards, but according to the very thin file, there were no leads, which isn’t surprising. Pendragon’s employees know how to dodge CCTV cameras. Lance lucked out with Montgomery’s footage because the office building adjacent to the forest park has high-end security cameras. Lance had to beg them for copies.

Lancelot looks down at the photo of one Merlin Emrys. St. John’s has gladly given him a copy of Emrys’ photo. It’s the type where you pose in a blue/green background, and in it, Emrys looks about 17 years old, all ears and cheekbones. Montgomery was worried sick over his friend, and claimed that his captors wanted to know his connection to the boy.

It doesn’t make sense. What does Merlin Emrys have to do with Arthur Pendragon?

From what he dug up, Merlin dropped off the face of the earth the moment he turned 18. He was considered an adult by the government, and St. John’s had no choice but to let him go. Nobody heard from him since then. Emrys himself certainly didn’t stay in touch with what few friends he managed to make at the orphanage.

Is the kid some kind of Pendragon employee? Perhaps, but that's a bit of a reach. Emrys haven't shown up on the employee roster they managed to acquire, and he has no criminal record whatsoever. Surely, if he’s an employee of some sort, he’d have shown up on the radar by now. Maybe some kind of informant? But, for what?

The kid is becoming the biggest mystery of all.

“Sir?”

Lance looks up to find Officer Mithian Rogers leaning against his office door. Even with an all-nighter, Mithian looks as polished and fresh as if she just started her working hours. The superintendent gave him grief when Lance chose her as his second-in-command, but underneath her beauty and high-end clothes lie a sharp intellect and a patience of a saint. She’s also a damned good puzzle solver.

“Yes?” Lance asks.

“We found something.”

Lance hit his knee against the side of his desk in his hurry to follow Mithian. Mithian leads him to the tech offices, straight to the desk of Elena Martin, the best tech analyst and computer forensics officer Interpol has to offer.

“What have you got for me?” Lance asks.

Elena makes a small squeak, and promptly drops the Jammy Dodger she is nibbling on. Lance raises an eyebrow at Mithian, who ignores him in favor of putting a hand on Elena’s shoulder to kindly say, “Tell him what you told me.”

“Oh, um,” Elena makes a series of flurried movements, before pushing her eyeglasses up the bridge of her nose. She adjusts some dials and presses some keys on her equipment, all the while squinting at one of the screens in front of her. After a while, she exclaims, “There!”

Lance looks at the screen she is pointing at. A man with shoulder length hair wearing a dark suit is leaning against the wall of a building, face turned towards the entrance, as if he’s waiting for something. He hazards a question, and hopes that Elena is less nervous now. “Um, what exactly am I looking at?”

“That, my friends, is one Gwaine Greene, a known employee of Arthur Pendragon,” Elena says, her smile wide.

“Huh. Okay, you found him. But, we can’t do anything until he does something to incriminate himself,” he reminds Elena. And then, enlightenment hits his brain. “Wait, is this in real time? Is he doing something incriminating _right now?_ Mithian, gather the team—“

“No, no,” Elena smiles awkwardly, “this is just footage from the day Mr. Montgomery was attacked, sir. I was looking at the footage of when Owain Dorsey and Bedivere Harlan dropped Montgomery by the forest, so I thought, why not go backwards to see where they’ve been—“

“We _know_ where they’ve been: the Pendragon Mansion. That’s where they took Montgomery.”

Elena nods. “Yes, sir. I-I know that. But, _but_ , I was thinking that maybe if I follow them some more, at an earlier time, we can find something else, you know?”

“They’ve been very careful,” Lance interjects, “they are always aware of where the cameras are, and they know how to avoid them. Or, they cut off the feed when they can’t be bothered.”

“I know that. _Sir!_ ” Elena shouts at him as she stands from her chair, agitation evident in her sharp movements. “If you could just allow me to continue, I’d reach my point rather _quickly_.”

Chastised, Lance gestures for her to carry on. At the corner of his eye, Mithian gives him a smug look. He ignores her.

“So, I took note of the car’s make and model, and then backtracked to where Will Montgomery was last seen, at the coffee shop on 31st and Woodstreet. And before you ask, no, I _didn’t_ see Owain or Bedivere, but I saw their car.”

Elena fiddles with her equipment again. Intrigued, Lance steps closer to the screens. She pauses the footage, and points at a black, unmarked sedan illegally parked across the street from the coffee shop. Although the video quality is grainy, Lance can see a profile of a man at the driver’s seat. Elena plays the footage on double the speed, keeps her finger pointed at the screen, and follows the progress of car into an alley, where, Lance knows, there are no cameras. After a while, the car shows up again and speeds away.

“That happened around the same time Montgomery says that he was taken. I’m guessing that they entered the coffee shop, knowing full well that Montgomery was going to be there, waited until he was alone and unnoticed—either going to the restroom or whatever—grabbed him, then took him around back, where no cameras can see them.”

“Okay, so they knew exactly who they were looking for. And you just showed us the how. But, I still don’t get the why. Why did they take Montgomery in the first place? He has no known connection with Arthur Pendragon and his operation. And, what’s his connection to this Merlin bloke? Won’t shut up about him.”

“And that’s the other thing I wanted to show you. I found Merlin.”

“What?!” Lance and Mithian shout at the same time.

“And you didn’t start with that?” Lance demands.

“Well, if I started with that, you’re going to ask me how I did it, you always do, so I decided to save time and just walk you through it. So shut up, I’m not done.” Lance glares at Elena, but Elena just glares back. She starts tapping keys again. “Anyway, I thought the same thing, that they knew who Montgomery is and when he’ll be, so I thought: _routine_. Montgomery must visit that coffee shop quite often that Dorsey and Harlan knew the exact time and date he’ll be there. So I checked the other days, and yes, Will Montgomery has been going to the Java Cup Shop every week to meet this guy.” Elena points at a different screen this time and pauses the footage. There on the grainy video screen is the tall, lanky, Merlin Emrys himself.

Elena starts the video again, and they see Merlin coming out of the coffee shop alongside Will, both carrying covered paper cups, walking towards the business district.

“Wait for it,” Elena says.

 _Wait for what?_ But Lance keeps his thoughts to himself until a familiar car enters the screen.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispers.

“Yes,” Elena excitedly runs the other screens, all showing Merlin, during various days from the looks of his clothes, walking around the city, and then that same black car following a few minutes after.

“Pendragon’s men are following him?” Mithian asks. “But why?”

“I don’t know,” Elena says, “and you’re going to hate me because I’m about to deliver another mystery. Our boy Merlin also likes to stick to his routines. Almost every Tuesday, he goes to the bank, stays there for half an hour or so, then leaves. And what do you know,” Elena pauses a screen again, this one the first footage she showed them, “Gwaine Green is waiting for him to come out. Sometimes it’s Owain, sometimes, it’s both, but Merlin is _always_ being followed by Pendragon’s men. Whether he was aware of that fact or not, I can’t tell.”

“And Will Montgomery was taken and beat up because of his connection to Merlin Emrys,” Mithian surmises.

“That would be my guess,” Elena says.

“Okay, so where does Merlin go after the bank?” Lance asks.

“You won’t believe it.” A pause. “Pendragon Mansion.”

“Wait, what?” Lance is glad that Mithian voiced the question first. Better to come from her than the unit leader. “But he’s not…I don’t know, being forced or held at gunpoint or anything?”

Elena shakes her head. “No. The cameras only followed him until a block from the Pendragon Mansion, but I’m pretty sure that that’s where he went. That land is Pendragon land, and the only other building near the mansion is also owned by Pendragon. Merlin never looks in distress. Whenever he comes into view of the cameras, he always looks calm, sometimes smiling even, no tension. Although, I’ve only checked out the footage from the last month. Want me to go further back?”

“Yes,” Lance answers quckly, “and access the CCTV in real time. I want to be informed as soon as Merlin shows up again. Understood?”

Elena nods. “Yes, sir.”

Lance smiles at her. “You did well, Officer Martin.”

Elena grins up at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Mithian, with me.”

As soon as they are out on the hallway, Mithian turns into a yenta. “You should take it easier on her. She still hasn’t gotten over her horrible crush on you.”

Lance can feel his blush to the roots of his hair. “Shut up. I want you to find out what Merlin Emrys is doing in that bank. Maybe you’d stick your nose in your own business.”

Mithian just chuckles, the witch. “Whatever you say, boss,” she singsongs as she walks into her own office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't abandoned this story, I swear! Thank you again for reading! :)


	10. What Merlin Knows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur won’t let Merlin far from his sight. So Merlin does what he does best—plan his escape.

Merlin watches Arthur take his clothes off, but he doesn’t say a thing. He’s been conflicted since that night—Arthur has never been deliberately cruel to him before. Oh, he can be a right prat when he opens his mouth, but not cruel. Never cruel. 

But now…

He’s tried getting out of the mansion, with the excuse of depositing his money, but Arthur just said that he’s deposited the money straight into his account, now that he knows Merlin’s name. He gave Arthur a few more days to calm down, to know that Merlin won’t leave him, so he kept his head down.

Arthur slips beside Merlin, hand automatically winding around Merlin’s waist. Merlin lets himself be pulled closer, and lays his head against Arthur’s chest. Arthur’s hand slides down his back, ghosts over his skin and lands on the curve of his butt. Merlin sighs. Now or never.

Merlin straddles Arthur without a warning, eliciting a sudden gasp from the other man. He smiles as Arthur tightens his grip on Merlin’s waist. Merlin rolls his hips a bit, minute movements that has Arthur grinding and moaning softly beneath him.

“Fuck, Merlin, you’re just gagging for my cock, aren’t you?”

Merlin gives a hard grind against Arthur’s thickening erection. “Your fault. You haven’t let me play with your cock for a while. All you wanna do is fuck me. My mouth needs practice.” He wiggles down until his face is level with Arthur’s hips, and, with a playful glare at Arthur, he wraps his lips around Arthur’s cock. 

“Shit,” Arthur hisses. “Sorry, darling, I didn’t—ah!” Merlin gives a fierce suck, his cheeks hollowing out and saliva dripping down his chin. “Didn’t—shit. Never mind. Come here.” Arthur tries to pull Merlin up, but Merlin stays put.

“No.”

“No?” Arthur asks, and Merlin can see the steel behind Arthur’s eyes, but he has a plan, and he’s sticking to it.

“No. I want you to come down my throat. I want to play with your cock.” He gives Arthur his most innocent look. “Please let me play with your cock.”

Arthur grits his teeth and shuts his eyes, and Merlin can see that the dirty talk is getting to him. He tamps down his grin.

“Fuck…”

Without waiting for permission, Merlin tongues the slit of Arthur’s prick and swipes at the precum gathered there. He hears Arthur curse some more, but he ignores all that. He wants to make Arthur incoherent with lust.

He alternates between sucking and bobbing his head. Underneath him, Arthur is shaking with restraint. Merlin curls a hand around the base of Arthur’s cock while the other holds Arthur’s hips down. As slowly as he could, Merlin licks a stripe up Arthur’s prick, making sure to pay special attention to the throbbing vein underneath.

As Arthur grabs handfuls of the bedding, Merlin puts all his focus on giving him pleasure. And boy, did he give him pleasure. As Arthur nears his completion, he puts a hand on the back of Merlin’s neck, and proceeds to fuck Merlin’s throat. Merlin takes it all, groaning and whimpering as Arthur mercilessly stuffs his throat, blocking his airway. Arthur comes with a shout, his hips stuttering to a halt. Merlin hums and continues sucking until Arthur gently pushes him off.

Merlin lays on his side and waits until Arthur comes back down from the orgasmic high. Knowing that Arthur is fucked out and pliant, he goes on to the second part of his plan.

“Arthur?”

Arthur hums, his eyes closed.

“I was thinking, you know—since I haven’t been to town lately—that I might go there tomorrow?”

The other man opens his eyes, and just looks at him. Minutes tick by, and Arthur still hasn’t said a word, but Merlin refuses to turn away in fear or embarrassment. 

Finally, Arthur says, smiling, “Sure.”

Merlin smiles wide, but keeps his relief to himself. No need to alarm Arthur or make him suspicious.

“We’ll go after my meeting with Leon, alright?” Arthur murmurs against his hair.

Merlin stiffens and croaks out, “What?”

“Hmm?” Arthur is sleepy—he usually is after a busy day and a round of sex—but Merlin persists.

“What do you mean, ‘we’ll go’?”

Arthur frowns. “You’re the one who suggested we go to town tomorrow.”

“No, I didn’t. I said, I’d like to go to town tomorrow. Never said anything about you. And aren’t you going to be busy, you know, shouting at people and stuff?”

Arthur rolls his eyes at Merlin. “Like I said, Merlin, I have a meeting with Leon, but that’s about it. I’m free the rest of the day so we can go to town. What do you want to do first? Lunch? Or do you want to take a walk around? We can even have tea at that shop you like.”

Merlin is being kept under supervision, and pointing it out would only result in Arthur’s fiery temper. He nuzzles into Arthur’s chest, desperately wishing for the man he first met, the Arthur that smiled easily and laughed at his snarky remarks. Now, Arthur is always angry, always on guard. Everything with Arthur is unsteady.

Merlin waits for the other man to fall asleep. As soon as Arthur’s breathing turned deep, he carefully extricates himself from his arms, and tiptoes to his room. Quietly, and as quickly as he could manage under the circumstances, he prepares for his escape. He grabs a nightshirt from his drawer, and cuts it into different-sized squares. Looking through his wardrobe, (the entire wardrobe that the Arthur from before gave him) he chooses his favorite outfit. Then, sews in the squares into the insides of his jumper and jacket using the needle and thread he stole from George’s quarters months and months before (before when he’s not as scared, but still wanting to have an easy way out just in case). When he’s satisfied with all the hidden pockets he’s made, he starts packing.

Afterwards, he’ll go back to Arthur’s side like nothing happened.

 

\----------===========----------

 

In the morning, a note on his bedside table informs Merlin that Arthur has already woken up and went to his meeting with Leon. He goes to his room, does his ablutions, and then dresses. He’s on his way down for some breakfast when he hears his name floating through an open window in the hallway.

“…Merlin. Arthur, everything is packed, papers are prepared, and flights are booked for Switzerland. We need to dispense unnecessary baggage if we are to leave the country immediately.”

Merlin hurries toward the window to peek. Arthur and Leon are walking and talking, their faces serious as hell, with Arthur grinding his jaw.

“I’m aware, Leon.”

“Then, you must—“

“I said, I’m aware,” Arthur hisses.

“That boy of yours is not going to like this, Arthur. Take my advice—do it quickly. In fact, I can do it for you if you'd like. I'll make sure that he's comfortable the whole time."

Arthur nods. “Fine. But not a scratch, Leon. And you can do it after we get back. Merlin wants to go to town today."

With an incline of his head, Leon says, "Is that wise?"

Arthur flaps a hand. "It makes no difference. It's not like he'll be here tomorrow. I'm considering it as a last request of sorts, if you will.” A pause. “By the way, for your side project...you know where the gun is. And remember to wear gloves—we don’t want to leave any evidence more than what we intended.”

With an incline of his head, Leon says, “Of course, sir. That’s decided, then. I’ll ask George to send Merlin to me tonight.”

Arthur nods.

Merlin can feel chills starting from his fingers and going all the way to his ears.

_ Send Merlin to me. _

_ We need to dispense unnecessary baggage… _

_ A last request of sorts… _

_ You know where the gun is... _

Horrified, Merlin half runs, half stumbles to his room in a panic. Arthur wants him dead, and he’s having Leon do it for him! He paces the length of his room, willing himself to calm down so he can think of a plan. If Arthur wants Leon to kill him tonight, then Merlin needs to get out. Quickly.

Merlin takes off the shirt and jacket he’s wearing, and wears his modified clothes instead. He also grabs the extra cash underneath his mattress and stuffs it inside his jeans. Finally, he takes out his phone, and puts it in the desk drawer.

Now, it begins.

\---------==========----------

 

When Arthur fetches him for their day in town, he's the perfect picture of a bored boytoy. He's in the sitting room, slouching on the sofa and playing with his phone. Deep inside, though, he is scared out of his wits.

"Ready, Merlin?" Arthur asks.

He nods, and follows Arthur out the door.

The ride to town is uneventful, save for Arthur keeping a hand on Merlin's knee. It's not that Merlin minds, but he doesn't want to give away his nervousness to the other man. He's not suicidal, thank you very much.

"Where do you want to go first, my sweet?"

Merlin turns to Arthur at the question, feeling disconcerted with the man's unrivalled attention on him. "How about that bakery with the cupcakes you love?" he answers. Arthur smiles as if Merlin's answer is the best thing he's heard all day, and it breaks Merlin's heart. He can't believe that this sweet man is capable of having him killed just because he's 'baggage.' Merlin looks away to prevent the tears from coming, and he keeps the smile in place, just in case Arthur is still watching him.

 

\---------=========----------

 

"Sir!"

Behind Lance, he can hear scuffling and a series of  _ "Sorrys!" _ and  _ "Excuse mes!" _ He turns to see Elena running after him, shoving people out of the way, with Mithian following in her wake. He frowns.

"Sir! Stop walking!" Elena shouts after him, so he takes pity on the poor girl and does as he’s told. Mithian looks worried, making him pause at the retort he was about to spout.

“Sir,” Mithian says as soon as she’s within two feet of him. “Our informant finally said something useful. We have intercepted a package from Libya headed for the Avalon Corporation. It’s chock full of narcotics.”

“Fucking finally, something we can pin on him!” Lancelot crows, and starts heading towards the bullpen to gather his men.

Mithian cuts in. “We also have confirmation that Arthur Pendragon is leaving for Switzerland  _ tonight _ . I’ve called the team, and had a surveillance van set up. I’m guessing you’d want eyes and ears everywhere.”

“That’s not all! I saw him! He’s out and about, and we need to move quickly!” Elena exclaims, bouncing up and down on her toes. 

“Okay,” Lance says, trying for patience, “Slow down. Saw who?”

“Merlin Emrys!” the two women shouted at him.

 

\-----======-----

 

Merlin’s sure that Arthur can hear his heartbeat with how loud it seems in Merlin’s ears, but the man is just drinking his coffee and reading the paper.

After a while, Arthur glances at him and sets the paper aside. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You’ve hardly touched your food.”

_ Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum _ .

“Merlin?”

He shakes himself out of his stupor. “Sorry. Sorry. I...think it’s the coffee--had too much of it. I think I need to go to the bathroom.”

Arthur nods. “Are you sure? Do you need anything else?”

“I’ll be fine. I just need to get this out, I think.”

Arthur wrinkles his nose at the implication. “Alright, if you must.”

Merlin takes a deep breath to calm down and make sure that he’s acting natural. Arthur mistakes it for the stomach ache, Merlin’s sure, because the other man presses a hand to his knee, and tilts his blond head towards the restrooms. And with that expressed permission, Merlin goes.

He goes, and he doesn’t look back for fear that Arthur will see right through his stupid plan and drag him back to the mansion. When he gets to the toilet, he checks the stalls to make sure he’s alone, before locking the door.

His breath is laboured, but he continues. Arthur can come looking for him any second now. He upends the trash bin, and drags it towards the awning windows high up one wall of the restroom. He stands on the bin, and carefully peeks outside. It won’t do to have any of Arthur’s men loitering about outside.

Once Merlin is sure that the coast is clear, he pushes the window all the way out, pushes himself out, and slithers out the window, face first. It’s slow going, and he’s almost in tears in fear, but he manages to push himself out. He thinks he’s home free until the windowsill bites into his upper hip.

_ Jesus Christ. _

Tears are now falling as he twist and turns and pushes and pulls to get the rest of his body through the window. But to no avail.

“Merlin?”

Arthur’s voice reverberates through the locked door. And Merlin closes his eyes in defeat. It’s over. He’s dead.

He hears footsteps rushing, and he opens his eyes, expecting to see Arthur’s men surrounding him. But, in front of him is a man in bulletproof vest on top of his suit, olive skin, curly hair hiding the tips of his ears, and face stubbled with growth. Behind him is a beautiful woman with dark hair in a bun, also in a bulletproof vest, kind eyes, and lovely smile.

“Shh,” the man whispers. “My name is Officer Lancelot Coulter from Interpol. We’re here to help you. Don’t say a word, just nod. Do you understand?”

Merlin has never been more scared in his life. He doesn’t know this man, and he can’t be sure that he’s not working for Arthur. 

“Merlin!”

He flinches at the shout from the other side of the door, and a whimper escapes his chest when the doorknob started rattling. The man must have heard Arthur, because his brow furrows, and he starts whispering again in a hurry.

“I know you’re scared, but it will be alright. We have officers outside waiting to go into the shop, but we need to clear you out first, okay? Pendragon is a dangerous man, and we’ve been following him for a long time. And we can help you okay? We need to get you out of there now!”

This time, Merlin nods quickly. Officer Coulter and the woman grab his arms, and together, they all managed to pull him completely out of the window.

“Go, go, go!” Officer Coulter says to no one in particular, one hand on his ear.

Merlin hears shouts and yells coming from inside the shop, and he wants to go see, but the woman is leading him away, towards a black van parked at the end of the alley.

“It’s okay,” her voice is soothing to his ear. “My name is Officer Mithian Rogers. We’ll get you to a safe place.”

“Merlin,” he hears himself speak in a shaky voice. “My name is Merlin.”

“Merlin. What a beautiful name.” She smiles at him. The van door opens, and inside are two officers armed to the teeth with rifles. He backs away.

“No. No!”

“Shh, Merlin, it’s okay.”

“No, I’m not going with them,” he exclaims in a panic. “They have guns. Big guns! No, no!”

He starts struggling in earnest against Officer Rogers’ tight hold.

“Merlin--!”

Behind him, gunfire starts.

“Get down!” Mithian drags him down, and covers his body with her own. Then, Mithian pushes him, and together they crawl towards the van, keeping low.

A screech comes out of nowhere, and they see a car heading straight to their direction. Mithin pushes Merlin inside the van, as the two officers get out and starts shooting at the car. Before the van door closes, he sees Arthur at the back of the speeding car, Leon beside him shooting at the officers.

_ “Arthur.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know most of you don't actually read this, but here goes.
> 
> I'm sorry about the delay. The original chapter was actually longer than this one, but I'm afraid that my laptop got corrupted, and the file, I'm afraid to say, is long gone. What you will read is not as good or as well-edited as the original, and for that, I apologize.
> 
> Anyway, one last chapter to go. Thank you for staying with me.
> 
> And before you ask:  
> \- the only police procedures I know are what I watch on TV, so any iffy information here is all me with little research.  
> \- Lancelot needed Merlin's consent before they can help him because otherwise if it all goes tits up, and Merlin gets hurt in the process, Merlin can actually sue them for police brutality (I know this because I studied law...a bit. Don't ask.)


	11. Uncaged Merlin, Flying Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is finally free.

He’s in a ‘good’ room, he knows. He’s at the London office of Interpol.

Merlin is not in an interrogation room, with their dark, dramatic lighting and two-way mirrors. He’s in a nice office, with an L-shaped couch, one wall is made of floor-to-ceiling windows, artwork on the walls, credentials and certificates behind the desk, and the nameplate “Lancelot Coulter, Unit Chief” on one side of the open door.

And yet, he can’t seem to raise his eyes from the floor.

Merlin tells them everything—from how he met Arthur, to the things he’s heard. He tells them about the flight to Switzerland, about overhearing Arthur and Leon discuss how to kill him because he’s baggage. How he saw important papers once, about a container going to Saudi Arabia that would get there in two weeks.

At this, Lancelot and Mithian run out of the office, shouting orders at other Interpol officers. Lancelot and Mithian have been good to him. Brought him clothes, food. Put him up in a decent motel room with round-the-clock bodyguards, just in case Arthur decides to show up and off him for good.

And still, he can’t look at anything other than the floor.

 

\---------==========----------

 

The container, it turns out, has firearms. Crates and crates of guns and sniper rifles and shotguns that Arthur has bought from Saudi Arabia to the United Kingdom months ago.

Lancelot and Mithian and the rest of the team are grinning and clapping each other on their backs, and congratulating themselves on a job well done, but  _ can’t they see? _

He throws his mug of tea against the wall. And, it captures everyone’s attention.

“You are all so happy with yourselves,” he snarls. “But you are all so  _ blind! _ What about me, huh? He’s still out there! What will I do now?” His voice breaks. His eyes well up, but he keeps the tears back.

They all fall silent, and avoid his eyes, because  _ he’s right _ . His life is now on hold because of Arthur Pendragon, and Lancelot and Mithian and all of Interpol don’t have a solution on how to get his life back. They are all idiots.

He turns his back on them and leaves. He gets into the car assigned to him, asks the driver to take him back to his motel, and goes straight to the bathroom. Once he’s turned the lock, he sobs.

 

\----------==========----------

 

Lancelot hasn’t called for Merlin since they intercepted the firearms container. He’s ashamed to admit that the kid was right, that getting the container was only a small piece of the bigger problem. The problem of Arthur Pendragon.

The entire unit is working tirelessly to follow Pendragon’s trail since he left Camelot, and so far, it’s a mixture of rumors and speculations and hearsay. Oh, there’s a lot of information, but nothing concrete. They check everything, anyway, waste of resources be damned. 

He deems it only right that the kid gets a few days rest and reprieve from Interpol.

Merlin surprised him. Not many witnesses could have kept their composure during their interviews like Merlin had. He’s  a bright young lad, a good head on his shoulders. Just a boy dealt with a bad hand.

Lancelot gets regular updates from Merlin’s security about the boy’s daily activities. He likes to read, watch the telly, go on walks. A bit reserved, according to the therapist they assigned him, but less problem than other witnesses they have had.

“Sir!” Elena stumbles into his office, breaking into his thoughts. “Pendragon’s booked a flight to Switzerland, and we need to get him now.”

 

\----------===========-----------

 

Elena caught Pendragon on one of the CCTVs of a private airstrip near London. Elena monitors a lot of CCTVs all over the UK. Professionally, Lancelot knows that some of these aren’t exactly legal, but he looks the other way. Personally, he’s scared of the woman.

Mithian knee is bopping constantly beside him, but he understands. They are on their way to the airstrip to arrest Pendragon, and everyone on their team is on tenterhooks.

From a distance, Lancelot can see men hauling things into the small private plane.

“Dammit! Drive faster!”

The officers all turn their sirens on, and the men near the plane suddenly move faster. The plane is geared up, but they are nearer now. They will make it.  _ They have to make it. _

Pendragon is going up into the plane, but stops by the door. He turns and salutes them before ducking into the plane, the door closing shut behind him. And that just gets into Lancelot’s nerves. He turns on the bullhorn.

“Arthur Pendragon, you are under arrest. Stop the plane right now!”

“Sir,” Elena says over his earpiece. “We talked to air traffic control. That plane is not cleared for takeoff. I repeat, the plane is not cleared for takeoff. Get that motherfucker.”

The plane slows down, and they hear the engine go to a slow whir, but the plane door remains closed.

“Arthur Pendragon, step out of the plane with your hands above your head! You are under arrest! Get out of the plane slowly!”

Lancelot and other officers get out of their vehicle as soon as they stop, their gun trained towards the plane door. He signals Mithian to stay in the car in case anyone tries to make a run for it,  _she_ can run them down.

The plane door hisses open, and the man they know as Leon steps out first, hands above his head. Interpol officers rush towards him, dragging the man to the floor, and handcuffing him.

Lancelot keeps his eyes on the plane. He needs the big fish.

Gwaine Greene steps out next, followed by Owain Dorsey, Bedivere Harlan, and a huge man they only know of as Percival. But no Arthur.

“Mithian,” he says to his earpiece, “again.”

“Arthur Pendragon, you are under arrest! Step out of the plane slowly with your hands above your head!” Mithian’s voice over the bullhorn is clear, but it doesn’t drown Lancelot’s own heartbeat.

Finally, the blond man steps out, his hands on his sides.

“Hands up,” Lancelot shouts, keeping Pendragon in his sight. “Hands up, Pendragon! Put your hands above your head!”

Still Pendragon doesn’t move.

“Don’t do this! Cooperate, Pendragon!”

Pendragon reaches for his back instead. Lancelot shoots him dead.

Officers secure the plane and the perimeter, while a newbie, Gwen Matthews, touches Pendragon’s neck for a pulse. Gwen shakes her head after a few seconds.

“Sir.”

Lancelot turns to Mithian. The ordinarily cool facade is marred with a furrowed brow and sweaty forehead.

“Merlin is missing.”

 

\----------==========----------

 

Merlin wake up from his nap with a decision made. He’s not going to stick around waiting for Arthur to either leave him alone, or kill him. No way.

Interpol is useless. Merlin knows that they won’t be able to do anything if Arthur decides to stay hidden forever. And what would Merlin do then? Cower behind his security detail? He reads the news; he knows that even protected witnesses die if the mob is determined enough.

He grabs the sleeping pills his therapist gave him for his nightmares. And then he makes tea for three people.

 

\----------==========---------

 

“YOU IDIOTS!” Lancelot roars at Merlin’s useless security officers. “I assign you one boy, and you fucking lose him!”

“Sir, it appears that Merlin put his medication into the tea he gave Tyrell and Jeffreys. It tested positive for—”

“I don’t care!” Mithian steps back at his bark. “Find him! Find him now!”

"But sir," Mithian cuts in, "do we have to?"

Lancelot whirls around to face her. "What?" he growls.

"Pendragon is dead," Mithian hisses at him. "We have the narcotics, the firearms. We have enough evidence to close this case cleanly! Can't we let the poor boy go? He's done enough for us!"

Lancelot looks around and sees each of his team's faces. Some nod, some just hold their heads high, but they are united. He wipes a hand down his face and nods.

The boy has done enough.

 

\----------==========----------

 

“Colin.”

It’s slow day at the clinic, and Merlin is staring at the spreadsheet in front of him, trying to figure out how to make the goddamned thing do his command. The internet says to click Numbers and then Percentage. Or is that Numbers and then Fraction?

“Colin.”

Or, maybe he should have input the formula for sum first? Gaius has taught this to him once before; he doesn’t want to ask for the instructions again.

“Colin.”

A hand touches his shoulder. He looks up to see Gaius raising his eyebrow at him.

“I’ve been calling you for a while now, my boy. Everything alright?”

Merlin nods.

It took him a month to stop looking over his shoulder for the Interpol. Once he was sure that the officers were asleep, he took what little money he has, and bought the first train ticket out of London.

Merlin met Gaius at the train station in Cambridge. The old man was struggling with his luggage, and boxes, and Merlin, in his good conscience, cannot let the man carry everything on his own.

Gaius accepted the help, and noted his lack of luggage and money. Gaius didn’t ask any questions. Just offered his house and some food in exchange for Merlin helping him. And Merlin never left.

Gaius is a physician and a professor at the university. He also has a clinic that he runs on the grounds of his home with a young doctor named McGillet, and they needed someone who can help assist them with the everyday running of the practice. Gaius offered him the job and a small salary along with his own room, and he accepted without hesitation. He’s never felt at ease with anyone as he has with Gaius, and he knows that the old man is a good man. And he hasn’t been wrong so far.

He heard that Arthur died during his altercation with Interpol, but Merlin couldn’t let down his guard, as long as he knows that there could still be a chance that Lancelot and his team were looking for him. But now, slowly, he can sleep at night without waking up at the slightest of sounds.

“Colin, my boy—”

“Sorry, Gaius, but I can’t seem to get the hang of this spreadsheet—”

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” Gaius drags a stool closer, and sits down. “You know that I don’t ask questions…”

Merlin feels his face drain.  _ No. No, this can’t be happening to him. Not when everything has been going well.  _ He stands abruptly, pushing his chair so suddenly that it clatters sideways. Then he starts to panic, going around in circles as he tries to think of the things he can bring with him. He’s not even sure if they are his things, as most of his possessions right now came from either Gaius or Doctor McGillet.

“Calm down, my boy. I’m not here to expose you.”

Gaius’ words penetrate his brain. “What?” he asks dumbly.

“I don’t want to expose you, Colin. Although I do have a proposition for you.”

“What?” he asks again.

Gaius has this look that he usually has when he thinks that Merlin is being an idiot. “Colin, I suggest you take a seat first before you faint from hyperventilation.”

Merlin does as ordered, putting his seat to rights and plonking down on it.

“I am not an idiot, and I know that when I took you in that you have a history behind you that you want to run away from. But I also know that you have a good head on your shoulders, and that you can achieve something if you put your mind to it.”

He nods, but frowns because he doesn’t know where Gaius is going with this.

“You see, I talked to an old friend of mine. His name is George Bayard. You might have heard of him--”

“As in Lord Bayard? That Bayard?”

Gaius sighs and nods. “Yes,  _ that Bayard _ . Anyway, I talked to him about you--nothing specific, mind you--but enough for him to get the gist.” Gaius pauses and sighs again. “Colin, you can’t run forever. This is a fact. And I, for one, would like to see you reach your potential, the potential you can’t achieve if you’re looking over your shoulder all the time. Bayard and I have discussed this, and we think we have a way of keeping your existence away from the necessary people.”

Merlin sucks in a breath. “So you know? You know who--You know my--You know--”

“Colin, Colin, calm down.” Gaius pats his shaking hands. “Yes, I know your...circumstances. Bayard suggested that I legally make you into family.”

“What?”

“Bayard will forge documents that say you are my nephew from Ireland, come to live with me because of your mother’s death. McGillet also offered forging photographs of the two us, with you as a little boy, in this thing he called Photocrop…”

“Photoshop,” Merlin automatically corrected.

“Yes, that. As my nephew, you can enter university and study any course you would like. I have an employee discount that I believe can be used for your education. And, if you agree to all this, Bayard will also put you down as one of his scholarship fund’s beneficiaries to help cover whatever you need in your studies.”

Jesus...it sounds...good. Too good to be true.

“But,” he starts, “but I don’t have any diplomas or such--”

“That’s quite alright, dear boy. As I have said, Bayard will have documents for us--”

“But you don’t know--you don’t know!”

“Don’t know what, Colin?”

“What I am! I am a whore, do you understand that? A prostitute, a streetwalker, whatever you want to call it! I fuck people for their money! I spread my legs for anyone who can pay! I am a worthless, useless whore!” Sobs wrack his chest, and he can’t help but curl in on himself, away from the kind eyes of the older man. 

He knows he’s worth nothing. He knows that he doesn’t deserve the kindness and generosity that Gaius and McGillet give to him freely.

He’s dirty.

Warm arms wrap around him, pulling him to an even warmer chest. “Shh, it’s quite alright, my boy. Quite alright.”

Words that should comfort him only make him cry harder. How can this old man, a man he barely knew, be so kind to him, when no one else has even been?

“We,” Gaius’ voice cracks above him, and he looks up to see the old man in tears as well. “We can’t change the circumstances dealt to us, Colin. You must know that. You did what you could to survive. You...You are one of the bravest men I know, to have gone through what you have. To have helped put that man away forever.”

Gaius knows. Gaius and McGillet and Bayard knows  _ everything _ .

The old man must have seen the question in his eyes because he explains. “Bayard keeps his hand in some...agencies, and he has heard talk of a young man who helped put a criminal away just vanish out of thin air. Surprisingly, it was on the same day I met you. We put two and two together--it wasn’t a difficult leap.”

“You must know, we don’t judge you or your past. And I am aware as to your reasons for keeping things quiet. But know that the three of us, we want you here. We want you to know that whatever happens, you can always go to us.”

Merlin nods dumbly.

“Now, if you’re worried that they would suddenly catch up to you, don’t fret. Bayard will set up a quick way for you to leave the country, should they decide to knock on our door. IF you agree to this. We won’t force you, of course. If you decide that it’s too risky, that you want to leave, we have put together a bag with clothes and money and documents that you can take right now, no questions asked. However...do you really want that for the rest of your life?”

Jumping from one place to another every few months or years? Keeping his head down and eating the bare minimum to survive? Or, having a life, friends,  _ family _ that has his back?

It was no contest. Merlin smiles and nods. “Let’s do it.”

Gaius' grin is wide, and it makes Merlin think, " _Is this what having a family feels like?"_

"Good boy, Colin!"

"Merlin," he corrects. "My name is Merlin."


End file.
